Hope
by Mille Vera
Summary: Ross and Rachel's breakup took a toll on the entire group, but when a bigger tragedy strikes, will the famous couple realize what is truly important? Lobsters, Mondler. Please R/R.
1. Chapter 1: Silence

**Hope**

Ross and Rachel stood facing each other, winded, with tears run across their faces. The screaming was over. Any sound that could be made was a shrill squeak or a sad moan. The pain lingered like a cloud of purple mist, embracing them, slowly strangling them to the edge of the highest cliff. Breaking up was hard to do, but harder to cope with. They were tired, they were weak. It was a battle, worse than a thousand men dying for their kings. No, they had to live with this.

Yes, it was wrong for Ross to sleep with Chloe. They _were _on a break, but it was only several hours later. Alcohol has a strong psychological effect on the human mind, and is worse than an oil spill and a lit match and when mixed with emotion. When Rachel told Ross it was Mark that was with her, the fuse was lit. Ross didn't care when Rachel attempted to explain. The man he believed to be stealing his everything from him was alone with her in her apartment. He filled with hatred for this one man, but could do nothing but sulk and vent about it. Chloe was there for him. Ross kissed her. Made love to her. A drunken night of sin. Now he was paying for it.

Ross attempted to speak, but there were no words for tonight, the single worst night of his life. Instead, he simply picked up his coat and walked out the door, defeated. Rachel turned and went into her room, tears staining the floor along the way. Chandler, Monica, Phoebe, and Joey attempted to console each other, they too crying about the events that had just transpired, even though they were hidden in Monica's room, unable to see the pain in Ross and Rachel's eyes. Each left soon after hearing Rachel's door shut, thinking about what the future held for the group.

The night air was crisp and cool, typical for Manhattan. Ross decided to walk home, reminiscing of his relationship with Rachel. He was sad, nothing else. Who wouldn't be? He wondered what Rachel was doing, but simply settled for going to bed. He was more than ready to do the same.

Only a block from his apartment, Ross practically fell asleep standing. He needed to hurry home to rest, and maybe forget about this night for a couple hours. He perked up as much as he could, but his heart was an anchor. It dragged him aground. Staring at the cement, he turned the corner onto his street, where he felt another presence.

Slowly looking up, he saw black. Black shoes, black pants, black hooded sweater, shrouding a person's face. Worst of all, a black hole, surrounded by cold steel.

This man stood erect, looking down at Ross. Revolver held firm in his grasp, he pointed it at Ross's chest.

"Hand over everything. Your wallet, keys, everything, or I will shoot." he said, with a voice deeper than the ocean.

Fear hit Ross like china speeding into a brick wall. He was in shock, but he wasn't stupid. He quickly emptied his pockets, and handed his valuables over to the mugger.

"T-That's everything, I swear, p-please let me go!" Ross yelled, putting his hands up.

"Sorry, punk. Can't let you go now." The mugger chuckled. This was sport to him.

A smirk appeared across the man's face, excited by Ross's fear. Rachel, Rachel, he thought to himself, closing his eyes. He was ready for whatever was going to happen. He exhaled, and recalled his entire life, as he opened his eyes to a flash.

Silence.


	2. Chapter 2: Ripples

**AN: I'm sorry if the last chapter was rushed, I really didn't think of the foundation of how I really wanted to write this story, I just started writing. **

**Anyway, please enjoy! More to come! I welcome all constructive criticism.**

* * *

><p><em>Beep. Beep. Beep.<em> The sound resonated through the room and pierced Rachel's brain as a plethora of emotions and thoughts flowed across her mind. It was six o'clock in the morning when she arrived at the hospital with Monica, Chandler, and Joey. Phoebe arrived several minutes after them, bursting through the door.

"Is he alright?" Phoebe ran straight over to Ross, but not before noticing Monica kneeling at his bedside squeezing his hand, crying.

A sniffle and a removal of tears, and Monica stood up to hug her.

"Sweetie," Monica said, choked, "It doesn't look good."

"No…" Phoebe could not help but cry. She had been through so much herself, but to see her friend helpless, it was a pain unlike any other.

Phoebe turned around to see Joey and Chandler standing behind her, distraught.

"You guys…" She shuffled over to them and clinged to them, but her eyes were glued to Rachel, who was sitting in the corner of the room, her face in her hands.

Not even she knew what she was really feeling.

Of course she was angry at Ross. He cheated on her. All of that was herded to the back of her mind now, however. Rachel stared at Ross on the hospital bed, and couldn't help but cry her eyes out. Breaking up couldn't compare to seeing her best friend, her lover, lie there motionless. He was always so feisty, so independent. This reflected in Monica, but she too cringed upon the sight of her brother.

A blank stare filled Rachel's face. She stood up and steadily walked toward Ross. She could not contemplate the suffering he must be in, but would he be able to feel hers? Leaning down, she whispered in his ear, hoping she could hear him.

"I love you Ross." She said, softly trembling.

Rachel would trade places with him in a heartbeat. She loved him with all the power in the universe.

Feeling hands rub her back, she fell into the safety net of her friends, and they held each other for what felt like forever.

Deciding to take a walk that afternoon, Rachel slumped out of the hospital, finally calming down.

An aroma of vanilla filled the air as Rachel passed by Central Perk, which reminded her of her first kiss with Ross. It was vibrant in her mind, like it happened yesterday. This image was suddenly replaced by them breaking up. It was all so trivial now, she thought, as Ross may never wake up. Even if he did, would he be the same? She loves everything about him, even his jealousy. It was only because he cared. If there was a rewind button, she would cherish every moment with him even more than she already did.

Passing through Central Park, Rachel stopped and gazed into the water. She appeared twenty years older. Her makeup ran. That didn't bother her though. She looked at herself in disgust. This didn't have to happen. She told Ross to leave last night. It could have been prevented. As she gazed into the water, each ripple reminded her of Ross, spreading outward, thinning, until nothing is left. That was what he felt like last night. Now, he can't feel anything but pain. Lying in that hospital bed, can he hear? The cries of Monica and Phoebe? The choked up speeches of Chandler and Joey? That only brings him more pain. Ross cares so much for his friends, and Rachel knew that he would take a million bullets for each of them. As she cries and her tears strike the water, the ripples become bigger, and bigger, until they reach the other side of the pond. They stop abruptly at their destination, the cold cement wall. Rachel wanted to believe that the wall was Ross's happiness. He can stop fighting then, and be happy. Maybe with her.

Yes, with her.

Still in a sad yet anxious stupor, Rachel rushes back to the hospital and heads into Ross's room. All of the gang besides Monica, who was still at his bedside, was asleep. Rachel never thought she could smile again, but she did when she saw Monica hold her brother's hand. Rachel never had a brother, no one to really protect her when she was growing up. Ross filled that hole.

Rachel rushed over to his side, and Monica immediately gave her room. Touching his porcelain skin with her silk hands, she hoped that he could hear her.

"Ross, sweetheart," Her breathing became heavy. "I love you. I don't care about Chloe or Mark or anything like that now. I need you. I need you to come back. I'm nothing without you, Ross. Your life is so much more important than some stupid relationship crap. I love you. We love you. You should see Monica bawling. Hell, you should've seen Phoebe and Joey."

Rachel drew a smile across her tear-ridden face. Monica soon followed.

"You're a strong person Ross. You will pull through. Use some of that stubbornness to wake up!" She kissed him on the forehead, and put her hand on his. "Sweetie, you have no idea how much I love you. We can work through our relationship problems. But if you left us, I'd be lost forever. We need you, Ross. Please, wake up." Rachel could barely speak at this point, and she rested her head against the bed.

Ross heard every word.


	3. Chapter 3: A Prison Built for One

Ross suffered beyond belief. He heard Rachel confess it all. He heard the cries of his friends. He needed to scream desperately, but couldn't. He wanted to open his eyes to Rachel's perfect face, but couldn't. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body. Caged inside his mind, unable to move a single muscle. He couldn't even squeeze her hand.

Immediately he was reminded of one of his favorite novels, _Johnny Got His Gun. _A poor soldier who's doomed to only think for the rest of his life, a prisoner in the worst prison of all, his own mind. In the exact same situation, Ross could hardly believe it. Would he ever wake up?

Ross was conscious. But he couldn't even show a single sign to his friends that he was alright. Well, not exactly _alright,_ but he was there, all of him. They were suffering too, and he would give everything for it to stop. Darkness was all that was present to him. He could feel the oxygen flow through him from the machines, but this was only a distraction. Did he deserve this pain? How long has it been since the accident? Does it really even matter? That man, the man who shot him, who was he? Was this just a random act of violence? So many questions, never enough answers.

Barely feeling Rachel's touch, the thing he needed more than anything, Ross was happy. He loved Rachel. Rachel loved him. Her voice was the finest ambrosia. Each word flowed through his mind and if he could smile, it would be the biggest grin. If and when he woke up, he would hold her in his arms and never let go. She was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Rachel Green. Rachel Geller. Both sounded perfect. Ross loved her with everything he had.

He could never forgive himself, however. He cut a deep wound in her when he slept with Chloe. He couldn't believe it himself. How _could _she still love him? This seemed like a suitable punishment for his mistake, he thought. But to hear her scream, cry, shout for him to wake up, it was a dream come true. To have her love, his heart could stop beating at that moment, and he would be happy.

Of course, he wouldn't let that happen.

He had to fight this. He tried remembering his relationship with her. All those feelings from high school, that kiss in the Laundromat, their real first kiss at Central Perk, the list he made to choose between her and Julie, and that kiss after the prom video. Ingrained in his mind, he tried so hard to wake up. He knew she was right in front of him. Rachel, he attempted to speak, Rachel, Rachel, Rachel, he said to himself, over and over. Was he even awake? Or was he asleep? He couldn't tell. Maybe he _was _dreaming. But he had to try.

Lying there in his hospital bed, Ross screamed Rachel's name in his head, hoping it could carry into voice. He would beg even more forgiveness for what happened with Chloe, even though she told him it didn't matter anymore. He would write her poems every day, devote himself to her. Ask her to marry him. They belonged together.

Ross tried everything, attempting to move, trying to speak, but he heard no feedback from his friends. Were they even in the room anymore? How much time had passed since Rachel told him that she still loved him? Actually, how much time had passed since he was shot?

It had to have been the next day. Ross thought more to himself of him and Rachel. The first time they made love in the planetarium, meeting her father and trying so desperately to gain his favor. Meeting with Mark, and sending her dozens of roses and boxes of chocolate to her office. That fire he caused at her desk on their anniversary. That moment they he left her apartment when she told him that they should take a break. His heart sank at that moment. The next memories for him would not be so pleasant, but he figured he needed to be strong. Drinking with Chloe, dancing with her, kissing her, sleeping with her. Breaking up with her. He couldn't help but laugh inside his head at how foolish he was. If only he hadn't taken Rachel for granted. Now look where he was.

Ross wished for a rewind button. As far as he knew, he could never open his eyes ever again, or feel the soft caress of Rachel's cheek.

As Ross's mind drifted, a specific scene entered his mind. A bridge in a park, most likely Central Park, with bright yellow and orange leaves falling into the water. There stands himself on the bridge, dressed in a tuxedo. His thumbs rub the hands of his beloved. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a french braid, and mounted on top was a veil which swung down and gently hovered beyond her face. A white gown hugged her body, though not as much as Ross hugged her. He leaned to kiss her, and as their lips met, an explosion of passion and happiness surrounded them. Ross had nearly died from the pure beauty of this perfect image. It was art. Him and Rachel, married, celebrating their eternal love.

As Chandler would say: Could it _BE _any cuter?

Ross needed to make that dream a reality.

When he tried to speak, no words came out. When he tensed and clenched, nothing happened. Fight for her, he thought. She's an angel. Now you must be one for her. She needs you. She loves you. You can do this, Ross. This voice who talked to him, it couldn't be Rachel. But he chose to trust it. He had to. What else could he do but fight for her love.

Again, he tried to shout her name.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel Green, can you hear me? I'm afraid and scared, but the thought of you gives me hope.

Hope.

Rachel, Rachel, like waking from a nightmare. Rachel, Rachel, I need you.

Rachel, be my lover, be my wife.

Her name burned itself hotter into his mind.

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel!

"Rachel."


	4. Chapter 4: The Note

"Rachel."

Her eyes flew open. Disoriented, she blinked rapidly.

"Rachel?"

Looking to her left, glass. Glass, tattered with rain and tinted blue, close enough to her face to startle her. But all it did was bring her memory back. The sun was shining, but it was cold. Frowning, she thought about Ross, without realizing she was being called.

"Rachel, it's time for us to go."

That wasn't the voice she needed to hear.

Rachel sat up, and found herself in Monica's apartment, next to the window.

"Rachel, here's some coffee. You've gotta get dressed."

"Uhhhh…" She moaned, exhausted.

Looking up, she saw Chandler's smiling face, something that usually cheered her up. It was tough recently.

"Thanks sweetie, what's going on?"

"The h-"

"The hospital called. Good news about Ross. They wouldn't tell us though. So we're going down there, and I know you want more than anyone to see him." said Monica, coming out of the bathroom, tying a knot in her hair.

Of course, this was true.

"The first good news in a while, then." Rachel said, taking a sip of her coffee. She stood up and yawned.

Heading into the bathroom, Rachel examined herself. She was wearing her (Ross's) Frankie Say Relax shirt and her favorite blue pajama bottoms which Ross had bought for her, covered in dinosaurs. Rachel shook her head and grinned, this is the first time she's felt good since the breakup. She didn't think she'd be able to smile through _that_, let alone Ross's accident.

Maybe it was the thought of Ross. His smiling face, and geeky demeanor. Rachel loved everything about him. They were in each other's hearts.

It had given her hope. A light shining in darkness.

Turning on the shower, Rachel recalled everything in the last two days. She couldn't believe how mad at Ross she was for sleeping with that girl. That was nothing compared to this. Anger was the easiest thing to feel, but with the worst consequences. Forgiveness, on the other hand, took a strong heart. Something Rachel needed for both her and Ross.

Truthfully, she never wanted the relationship to end. Rachel was angry at Ross. He had broken her trust. But she still loved him. Taken by emotion, she told him to leave. He left. The future became blurry at that point, but it would have to involve them avoiding and berating each other. Rachel didn't want that. She was sure Ross didn't either. Now it was certain, however. She would do everything she could to be the greatest girlfriend in the world. She loved him, which was all that mattered. One mistake would never change that.

As Rachel came out of the shower and toweled herself off, she noticed writing on the mirror.

_Hey honey!  
>I know you leave these things all the time for me,<br>so thought I'd leave one for you,  
>even though it hurts to defame my own mirror…<br>Haha. Love you Rach! We can get through anything! _

_-Monica_

She could not stop smiling. She had all the support she could ever need. Her friends gave her the courage to get through anything.

Rachel stepped out of the bathroom and immediately went over to the couch and hugged a surprised Monica.

"Sweetheart, thank you. I know this must have taken quite a toll on you too." Rachel happily groaned.

"It did," Monica patted her best friend on the arm. "I don't think I'd be able to handle losing Ross. He's my brother. I know that we are typical siblings, but deep down I love him dearly."

"I know, sweetie. But at least now we have good news."

Monica chuckled. " Thank God."

"Well I had better get dressed." Rachel said, giving Monica a reassuring squeeze.

"Ohhh yeah," came a voice from behind them. "Kiss her. Kiss her." It became a whisper.

Rachel and Monica spun around to see Joey in the doorway, with Chandler and Phoebe closely behind him, laughing.

"You guys are stupid." Rachel said playfully, before going to her room to get dressed.

Arriving at the hospital, the group immediately headed up to Ross's room. As they entered, a short, petite nurse was refilling his IV. Ross was still lying there, motionless.

"How is he?" Chandler asked, more serious than usual.

"You are his friends?" The nurse's voice was just as soft-spoken as they would have expected.

"Yes." Rachel was full to bursting.

"I'll get the doctor for you, and he'll explain. But I'll tell you this man right here is quite a little miracle." She said, beaming. This was a sign of relief for the gang.

Immediately the girl left to fetch the doctor. Rachel walked up to Ross and petted her hand through his hair. She began to sob, for he couldn't wipe her tears away yet. Pairs of arms reached around her, and she turned to face her friends, holding them as tight as she could. She really had everything she could have ever wanted.

The door creaked, and a tall, handsome doctor walked in with a clipboard. He was not the same one that was there at the time Ross was admitted. He gave off a feeling, a _peaceful _feeling.

"Is a Ms. Monica Geller here?" His voice was very deep.

"T-That's me." Monica was completely caught off-guard by his demeanor, but stepped forward.

"Your brother is conscious. His hearing has come back completely, and he can open his eyes. His motor skills, however, are limited but slowly recovering," He flashed a quick smile at Monica. "It is unheard of for someone with this much damage close to their spinal cord to recover this fast. He's got some willpower."

"Can he speak?" She asked, worried.

"As of yet, no. The bullet seems to have damaged his vocal cords. He will recover in time, however, but it will take a while."

The feelings tossed around were mixed. Ross was okay now. He could see, hear, and touch them.

The nurse reappeared, and whispered to the handsome doctor, which meant that he had another call.

"Forgive me, but I must leave. Your welcome to stay, just keep it down, as our hero here is resting." His tone became off-guarding and sarcastic, as he flashed another smile that made Monica and Phoebe nearly faint.

The doctor left and the gang rejoiced quietly with the news, while Monica and Phoebe fanned each other over the doctor who was "twice as hot as Richard.", something Chandler scoffed at.

Rachel was the happiest. The love of her life would be okay. She went over to Ross and kissed his forehead, trying not to wake him yet. As she gazed into his closed eyes, she thought about what the future held. She wanted to get back together with him, but did he feel the same? Would he return her love? Little did it occur to Rachel that he would do this, and even more.

"Oh yes, I forgot something!" The nurse exclaimed, as she hurried to the bedside table. "He wanted to give this note to Rachel Green. He wrote it once he could move his arm."

Flustered, Rachel took the note and unfolded it.

_See the stone set in your eyes,  
>See the thorn twist in your side,<br>I wait for you._

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate,  
>On a bed of nails she makes me wait,<br>And I wait without you._

_With or Without You._

_Our song._

_I love you Rachel Green._

_-Ross_

Rachel was frozen. Turned to stone by Ross's love. He was an angel, wrapping his wing of passion around her, protecting her, holding her. Her jaw twitched. Trying to say something, but couldn't. It was so beautiful. Ross loved her, returned her feelings. A moment of pure ecstasy came over her, and her emotions swirled into a melting abyss of happiness. A million pink cherry blossoms filled the space of Rachel's heart, and a chorus of saints sang her story, her tale of love.

Rachel fell to her knees, and cried the tears of the goddess that she was. She clutched the note to her heart, and smiled. Her friends rushed over to her, attempting to take the note, believing it to be of malice. It was not. It was the one single thing that made Rachel's life complete. The gang kneeled beside her and comforted her from the demons that didn't exist. She looked up, tears flowing down her cheeks, and let Ross's love embrace her. She had never felt safer. She had never been happier. Putting her face into her hands, Monica pulled the note out and read it. A sigh, a tear, and soon Chandler read it as well. His smile was unmatched. Joey, with his drawn out "Awwww….." and Phoebe, holding her fingers together with a childish smile, "See? She _is _his lobster!"

As Rachel sobbed with happiness, her friends could not help but do the same.

Soon enough, the hand of her lover reached over to wipe the tears from her beautiful face.

* * *

><p><strong>I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I had to pour my heart out on this one. Tell me what you think!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Reunited

_A touch that had not been felt in so long._  
><em>A smile almost forgotten.<em>  
><em>A kiss that nulls the pain.<em>

Ross opened his eyes to her angelic face, and gazed into her vulnerable crystalline eyes. Clutching his note, she cried. Rachel's fantasy became reality. Ross never stopped loving her. He hated every tear that stained her perfectly silked skin, no matter the means of creation, whether joy or pain. He watched the note passed between his friends, and was only reassured that his mission was only half-done. He declared his love for Rachel in words. Now, it was time to show it.

Rachel's hands dropped into her lap when she could hold it in no longer. Her feelings of bliss could not be more powerful. At least she thought.

As his friends began to sob gleefully at the words he had written, Ross lifted his arm with all of his strength. Despite the physical torture, it was nothing compared to the suffering he had just gone through, and the happiness that awaited him. He reached for her cheek, and laid his hand upon it, shocking Rachel beyond the point of dreaming. A single tear was caught, and wiped clear from her beauty.

Rachel's knight in shining armor would give it all he could to wipe his princess's tears away.

Her eyes rolled up, and caught Ross's, which nearly made her faint. His hand twitched from the pain that he wouldn't allow his face to show. Instead, he smiled. A smile which had not been seen in what seemed like forever. That smile that was made of the sweetest sugar, that always made Rachel crumble inside, like one of Monica's infamous casseroles.

With what little strength he had left, Ross ran his hand through the side of Rachel's hair. It was just as soft as he remembered, like touching grass from the Garden of Eden. He grasped her neck, caressing it as she remained there frozen, staring at him, admiring him.

As Ross's hand rested on Rachel's shoulder, she snapped out her reverie and instinctly grabbed Ross's hand. It was warm, it was at peace. Ross interlaced his hand with hers, and exhaled, angry that he couldn't speak. That he couldn't say he loved her. He hoped she could read his lips as he mouthed her name. 'Rachel'.

Holding back tears, Rachel whispered back. 'Ross'.

The group gathered around Ross. Monica grasped his other hand, and smiled as her brother recovered with the greatest medicine under the sun. Joey and Chandler fooled with the various machines, which Phoebe quickly discouraged.

Rachel stood up slowly, and inched closer to Ross. His head followed her motions in complete sync. Moving her hair from her face, she leaned down to Ross and tried to communicate with him.

"Ross, sweetie..." Rachel said, fluffing his pillow. "I love you so much. I'm so happy your okay."

'I love you too, Rach.' Ross mouthed.

"I don't care about what you did. There are more important things to worry about, like your life," Rachel looked into his eyes, saddened. "I promise to be a better girlfriend."

'I'm so sorry.' Ross blinked, shedding a tear.

"Don't be. We will work this out. Your my everything, Ross. Can I be your girlfriend again?"

Ross grinned. She should know the answer to that question by now.

Seeing his smile, she smirked back. "Thank you."

"And don't you dare scare me like that again!" Monica yelled, hitting him playfully in the shoulder.

Ross turned his head towards his sister and stuck his tongue out, which evaporated her anger instantly. Monica wasn't very good at being mad at her brother anymore.

Rachel placed her hand on Ross's cheek, pulling his head back towards her, where she planted a firm and loving kiss. The kiss to end all kisses, he thought. But he had no time to think, only love. Love the person he's loved for so many years, the love that would drive an ordinary man insane.

A spark of passion erupted when their lips collided, sending the force of a whirlwind through their hearts. The only way it could have been better is if Rachel was wrapped in Ross's arms, locked in an embrace that shut the world out. In their own personal paradise, a heaven that was made for them.

Rachel would see to it that Ross would become fully recovered. She would never give up. Their love would triumph over any challenge thrown at them.

As their lips parted, the gang decided to head on home to rest; Rachel decided to sleep next to Ross. As Ross drifted off to sleep with her holding his hand, Rachel began to daydream about a certain scene in the middle of Central Park.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry this one ran a little short guys! It's 3:00 am and I haven't had my local dose of caffeine. <strong>

**Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, it is my first fic, I'm trying my best. Much love!**


	6. Chapter 6: Dreaming

**AN: This chapter is a little dark. **

**I must also thank 2good2betrue whose support has helped me become a better writer.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)**

* * *

><p>Ross flung the veil upwards to rest upon her woven hair, and kissed her with an unfathomable passion. This happiness she felt, was it true? Was it genuine? All it took was a a quick glimpse at the gold that clinged to her finger, engraved with her name. Rachel Geller. No words were needed. The most exquisite satin gown laced her body, intoxicating her in soft twilight. Diamonds littered the neckline of her dress, which could only reflect the supreme beauty she gifted the world. The stone beneath her feet could not harm the alabaster stiletto shoes she wore, not when love had lifted her up this high.<p>

As Ross held Rachel tighter, the vision broke.

When her eyes ripped open, the dream remained what it really was: a dream.

Blurred, Rachel became aware of her surroundings. She was still in the hospital, sitting next to Ross, holding his hand. He was sleeping, possibly dreaming. His hand was cool to the touch as she squeezed it reassuringly. The off-white color of the walls and the light blue speckled floor were soul sucking. As much as she loved Ross, Rachel hated hospitals. They were always so boring and their was nothing to do. However, she took solace in the fact that Ross was here. The hospital could have been on fire and she wouldn't move. In fact, she'd probably throw herself onto Ross like a shield.

Rachel laid a hand on Ross's head and began to pet him gently, as she peered at his features. His skin was still pale, but his cheeks had faint color. When he opened his eyes the day before, they were the purest cocoa brown, and Rachel could not wait to look into them again. His hair was greasy and disheveled. This didn't bother her at all. Ross was still as handsome as ever to her. The smallest twitch of his hand, and Rachel held on for dear life.

She still couldn't believe someone would ever hurt Ross like this. Who was that sick bastard?

That was another matter to sort out. Ross provided all the details he could about the mugger to the police during the ambulance ride, but crimes like these are so common, and even with the witnesses who heard the gunshot, nothing was guaranteed. Who knows where he is or if he's been caught or not? It simply wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_. Ross didn't deserve this. A tear threatened to escape from Rachel's gleaming eye, but she kept her silent anger in check.

Rachel didn't bother to think of that anymore. It wasn't important now. She decided that Ross getting back to full health was paramount. She was still so exhausted, despite having been woken up from possibly the greatest dream she ever had. It was so vivid, so lucid, it was jaunted to the front of her mind. It obviously meant something right?

But now was not the time for questions. Glancing at the clock, 3 a.m. rolled right around the corner. Rachel just wanted to pass out, but it was hard. Something was holding her back from sweet slumber. She glanced over at Ross, who was sleeping so peacefully. The faint humming from the oxygen seeping into Ross's lungs was not as irritating as she thought it would be. The heart rate monitor didn't give Rachel a headache, unlike the first time she visited Ross. Things had finally settled down. All that was left to do was rebuild.

Rachel leaned over to Ross and kissed him sweetly on the lips, trying not to wake him. It felt unbelievable to kiss him again, even if it physically hurt him to kiss her back. It was symbolic of their bond.

As she fell back into her chair, she stroked Ross's arm for what seemed like forever, and all she did was wonder.

Rachel laid her elbows on the edge of the wooden balcony, and rested her chin into her palm. Her stunning pink gown fluffed itself forward, and her sapphire embedded tiara shifted lightly in her hair. Her father said it complimented her eyes, but she didn't care how much her father gave her, be it a pony or an entire kingdom. She was missing something.

As Rachel stared at the clear skies above her, the wisps of clouds seeped away, as if they've been ordered by Zeus himself. Exhaling, her eyes rolled down. The lilies in the garden beneath her sprang up when she looked at them, filling to the brim with vigor. This didn't shock her, nothing really did now. The streets ahead of her were devoid of life, something she truly didn't mind at this moment. No one to bother her as her mind wandered the vast deserts of her heart. This didn't last, however. The silence grew _stronger, _it was pulling her towards the ground. It grew each second, and it soon became painful. Rachel's heartbeat became erratic and loud. She moaned warily to fill the gap, but did not feel the heavy hands that wrapped around her waist. They pulled her closer to him, as he hummed her favorite lullaby. She gasped while trying to break free, but it was to no avail. Ross swung her around and locked her in a kiss, where she, without hesitation, fell limp. There was no more suffering or agony, just peace. As their lips parted, he mouthed 'I love you'. Rachel froze, happier than ever. But the happier she became, the faster the illusion melted before her.

Rachel closed her eyes as everything she loved disappeared around her. Complete blackness surrounded her. It grabbed at her, pushed her, until all she could do was give up. She couldn't fight anymore, against whatever it was she was fighting against. An abrupt stop, and Rachel was paralyzed. She couldn't move, and could hardly breathe. Pressure on her chest and stomach became extreme pain. So she cried with the last of his strength for him.

"R-Ross."

In an instant, the torture had ended. A call of his name and Rachel was free. The chains that bound her to this darkness were broken. His form came from shadows that plagued this world they were trapped in. He took away all the fear from her like it had never been there. She let out a sigh as he approached her. Rachel held out her arms to escape this wretched place. Ross responded with a warm embrace, and a soft kiss to the forehead. Something was wrong, however. Her stomach ached.

As Rachel looked up toward his smiling face that lighted up her life, he spoke for the first time since the accident, albeit softly.

"Don't cry, Rach."

This was strange. Rachel wasn't crying. He repeated his imperative.

"Don't cry, Rachel."

As a puzzled look formed on her face, a loud bang pierced the thick medium.

Ross grew cold, and fell to the ground.

Rachel violently awoke, sweating profusely. What the hell _was _that? Never had she had such a terrible dream, especially when all she needed was next to her. She squinted at the clock. 3:07 a.m.. Unbelievable. She turned towards her lover, but not before hearing a cringing sound.

Ross's hand was tightly crushed between her's. His heart rate monitor blared rapidly, and his breathing constricted.

Rachel immediately called the nurse, terrified.


	7. Chapter 7: Help from a High Place

**AN: I hope you are all enjoying the story so far!**

**Guys, I would really love it if you left a review!  
>It helps me become a better writer for all of you.<br>It would mean a lot!**

**Please and thank you! :)**

* * *

><p>Several nurses had to restrain Ross as he thrashed around like a wild bull. Rachel was aghast at the sight before her; his entire body shook and spasmed, he fiercely gasped for air and growled while he drew an angry expression on his face. Quickly, a nurse filled a syringe with liquid and jammed it in his arm, injecting him with sedative as carefully as she could. Within seconds, his body drooped as if his heart had stopped. Thankfully, it didn't. Ross's heart rate decreased dramatically and breath returned to him.<p>

Rachel cautiously stepped toward Ross's motionless body, fear clouding her mind. The nurses stepped away to check his vitals, noticing her now pale face.

"W-What happened to him?" Rachel demanded, glaring at the nurse across from her.

"Mild panic attack, most likely." He calmly stated, confusion hidden in his tone.

"_Mild?_ He nearly fell off the bed!" Rachel shouted angrily, hands flying downward.

"Ma'am," A nurse next to her said, "Please remain calm. It could be any number of things. We're looking into it right now. Please take a seat." Her voice became more agitated.

Rachel grunted and stomped to her chair. She couldn't believe what she just saw.

"Panic attack, my ass..." She whispered, maliciously.

What happened to Ross? Just yesterday, he smiled at her, kissed her, stroked her hair, and even told her he loved her. Ross was supposed to be _better, _she thought. But now, he was helpless again. This was killing Rachel. She leered at her beloved, concerned. Something about all of this was very wrong.

Rachel couldn't fall back asleep. Not after that. That traumatized her to her very core, nearly as bad as when Ross had gotten mugged. She was broken and alone now. Holding Ross's hand did not bestow the comfort she needed. It was like he wasn't even there. Just like in her dreams, it was an illusion.

_Her dreams._

The very thought of her dreams sickened her. They were much too clear to be completely random. They were imprinted in her mind, and were scalding hot. Rachel thought over the most recent one.

"Don't cry," She pondered. "Don't cry, Rach." She whispered to herself. What had her vision of Ross meant by that? She hadn't cried since she read Ross's letter. Her sadness and disgust swarmed into confusion. Defying him, she began sobbing uncontrollably.

A wave of emotion crashed against her. Rachel figured things wouldn't be this simple. She realized Ross had almost gotten past the physical pain. The psychological agony, however, would do it's best to drive both him and Rachel toward their breaking points. She would stay by his side through it all. She had to. Their love could climb any mountain, and leap the largest valleys. Ross had always been there for her. Now, she was going to return the favor, at all costs.

It was at about 6 o'clock when the door to Ross's room creaked open. Rachel's eyes had been shut at her feeble attempt to sleep. She lazily attempted to focus on who was visiting so early; it was none other than Carol, followed by Susan and Ben.

"Carol?" Rachel inquired sleepily.

"Rachel, hi." Carol replied, sympathetically.

Rachel stood up and Carol gave her a quick but reassuring hug.

"Monica told us what happened, I'm so sorry we couldn't come earlier. We were visiting Susan's parents in Connecticut," Carol continued, concerned. "How is he now?"

"He's heavily sedated, he had what the hospital believes is a panic attack a couple a hours ago," Rachel's voice became mocking. "But I call BS."

"I heard he was getting better though?" Carol said hastily, walking over to Ross. Susan followed her, holding Ben.

"He looks so... defenseless." Susan declared, sadness flowing through her words.

"Da-ddy?" Ben uttered, confused.

"Yes honey, daddy." Carol's throat closed up as tears began to fall from her eyes.

Susan rubbed her partner's back, holding back her own sobs.

Susan could not believe how angry she used to get with Ross, fighting over Carol, Ben, and everything in between. While she was mad at him for so many things, she admired his fiery demeanor and his loyalty to Ben and his friends.

Rachel glanced at the couple. "Do you guys, um, want some coffee?"

"That'd be great, Rachel, thank you," Carol smiled weakly. "We'll both take it black." Susan nodded her head in agreement.

Rachel walked out of Ross's room, but not without feeling the pain of leaving his side. Is this how he felt when he left her that night? Countless thoughts went through her mind as she walked down the hallway towards the coffee machine. The path to recovery seemed to stretch out endlessly. Rachel was traumatized beyond belief, but she couldn't even comprehend the pain that Ross was possibly feeling. All she expected to happen was that he was going to get better, her and Ross would be back together, and everything would go back to normal with a happy ending. That was nothing but a fleeting dream now. Something was wrong with _her, _and Rachel wasn't even the one who was mugged that night. Why was she feeling this? It was Ross who was hurt, not her. But seeing him toss about like a fish out of water, to watch him writhe in pain, it made her die inside. She loved him so much, his malady was hers. What was causing all of this emotional havoc?

Guilt. Sorrow. The longing for forgiveness of everything that had happened. Rachel's mind wreaked with possibilities. A stupid fight that led to a tragic accident that neither of them will ever forget. Could she have prevented this? What if she hadn't told him to leave that night, only 2 and a half days ago, but what seemed like years? Was all of this her fault? Why did this have to happen to Ross? If only it had been her instead of him. Maybe it would have been better that way. Maybe...

Rachel began pouring coffee, her hands shaking. She hadn't slept comfortably in almost a week, between work, the breakup, and the accident.

Her entire body ached, and she grieved heavily.

_Work._

Rachel hadn't called into Bloomingdale's since that night. Not even to tell Joanna she was taking personal days off. God, she thought, how could she have let work get in the way of her relationship with Ross? If she'd only been more attentive. Work isn't everything. Sure, her friends told her to follow her passion, but her passion was _Ross._

And then there was Mark. Mark, who had given her a job that was perfect for her. Rachel was beginning to see exactly why Ross was so jealous of him in the first place. Mark's attitude toward her, the fact that he spent every day with her, and how he understood her when she was angry at Ross. Then came the night when she wanted a break, when Ross called while Mark was at the apartment. He drank a lot and he thought she was cheating on him with Mark, and Mark was at her apartment. To Ross, it didn't look good. If only she understood, they wouldn't have taken a break. They wouldn't have broken up, and the future would've been bright.

But it was time to stop wondering what could've happened. Rachel had to live with the choices she made. Of course, this was easier said than done.

Her feet dragged their way back to Ross's room, where she looked in the window. Susan was sitting in Rachel's chair, feeding Ben. Carol was standing over Ross, mulling. Rachel could see the hurt in Carol's eyes. Even though she left him, she had always cared about him. This was something that had affected everyone Ross loved, because he himself was just so lovable.

Rachel sighed and entered the room, and handed Carol and Susan their coffee. She went to Ross and grabbed his hand, hoping that he would wake up soon, she wanted to gaze into his chocolate eyes. She wanted to see that smile that made her heart skip a beat.

She had to know what happened to him earlier. It was worse than any nightmare.

"Are you feeling alright, Rachel?" Carol wondered, worried.

Rachel shook her head. "I... I love him so much Carol."

Carol set her cup on the bedside table. "I know, honey. He loves you too, more than anything in the world." She paused, and walked around the bed and put her hand on Rachel's shoulder, holding back tears. "I saw the expression on his face when I left him. You have the exact same look."

Rachel looked at Carol, wiping her misty eyes.

She continued. "He'll be okay, Rachel. He's a fighter. And, he's got things to fight for." Carol pulled Rachel into a brief hug, and rubbed her eyes when they broke off.

Carol looked over at Susan talking to Ben, motioning Rachel to look as well. Rachel smirked. She walked over to Susan, who took a sip of her coffee.

"Susan?"

Susan craned her neck backwards to look at Rachel, smiling. "Yes Rachel?" She picked up Ben and stood up.

"D-Do you mind?" Rachel held her arms out.

"Of course not," Susan handed Ben to her. " Ben, can you say Rachel? Ra-chel?"

"Ra-chel..?" Ben whispered, tired.

Rachel grinned broadly. Even if Ben wasn't her child, she was more than happy to take care of him at every chance she could.

As Rachel coddled Ben, she could see Ross in him. Ben had Carol's hair and nose, but his eyes, his _gorgeous _eyes, belonged to Ross. She kissed Ben on the forehead, and went back to Ross.

Rachel petted Ross on the cheek with her free hand, and saw a bright flash in the corner of her eye.

"I should've told you to smile, but surprise is a good look too." Carol chuckled, as her polaroid printed the photo.

As Rachel looked at her holding a sleeping Ben and stroking her beloved, she smiled at the epiphany she had.

They made a magnificent family.


	8. Chapter 8: False Gain, True Amity

**AN: I hope you guys are still enjoying this story!  
><strong>**Tell me what you think, I was incredibly distracted while writing this chapter.**

**_I'll be there for__ you._**

* * *

><p>Monica roused from her sleep, groggy and sore. The past few nights had been rough on everyone, but she was ready to crack. Her sanity held on by a thread, hoping her brother would come back.<p>

Ross was better, but who knows if he would ever be able to speak again. His voice was virtually forgotten to her. The truth would evade her grasp, and it strike her from behind.

Monica needed to be the voice of Ross now; his pillar of strength.

She lifted her legs off the couch from where she crashed last night, and, weakly stood up stretching. Groaning, the midday sunlight stabbed at her eyes like daggers. Monica didn't even feel like tidying herself up. She just wanted to see Ross.

The phone's ringing broke her focus.

"Hello?" Monica's voice was hoarse.

"Monica, sweetheart, I don't think we're coming back today."

"Mom? Why not?" Monica asked, bewildered.

"We were sidetracked in Madrid. Something about hurricanes." Judy's tone became melancholy.

"So what, you guys aren't coming until tomorrow or what?" Monica became slightly annoyed.

"Unfortunately, the flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning. Your father and I will be home by the next day at the latest."

"Yeah, okay mom. Please come back soon."

"Give our regards to Ross when you see him, tell him to get better or else!"

"Sure thing, Goodbye." Monica abruptly hung up the phone, rolling her eyes. Her mother tried to hide the pain in her words, even when it failed horribly.

It was _Ross,_ after all, the 'favorite'. Hell, if Monica was attacked they'd probably throw a nice little party. She was rapidly approaching 30 and worked at a dead-end job that she absolutely despised. It felt so paltry compared to his achievements.

She grieved, and came back to reality.

None of that mattered; this wasn't about her. This was about Ross, and him getting better.

Monica couldn't believe how they used to fight. This was typical of all siblings, but it sounded so stupid now. It wasn't worth it, to be right all the time. To think that she felt embarrassed by him in public, that she pretended he wasn't even related to her when she was talking to complete strangers. She actually _hated _him back then. If she could take it all back, she would. Ross loved her unconditionally, and was always there for her, whether she wanted him or not. He was such a good brother, and Monica treated him like crap.

It made her ill.

She tossed on her favorite gray sweatpants and hoodie, before putting a barrette in her messy hair. Slipping on her flip-flops and taking her purse, Monica quickly took some Pepto-Bismol and headed out the door.

Opening the door to Joey and Chandler's, they were nowhere to be found.

"Guys?" Monica yelled, echoing through the apartment.

A loud thud cleaved through the silence.

Monica's brow furrowed as she wondered what that sound was. Before she walked to the middle of the living room, Joey stumbled out of his room.

"Joey? What was that?"

"Uhhh, it definitely wasn't me falling of the bed." Joey replied, flashing a hurt smile.

Monica chortled. "Get dressed. We're going to see Ross," She raised her voice. "Chandler!"

On cue, the shower started running.

Monica plopped herself on one of the stools and buried her head in her hands while waiting for the boys to get ready.

She couldn't help but feel that something was horribly wrong. What could it be? Ross was slowly recovering, Rachel had forgiven him, and they had gotten back together. Yet, this strange feeling of despair and distress began to devour her. Her stomach knotted with uncontrollable pain, and her throat dried up. Things were starting to look up, and all of a sudden they were being dragged down again by something unknown.

Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Ever since the accident, things have been changing much too fast. For better or worse, it cannot be said.

Monica was no longer in control of her own thoughts.

She tried to muffle her sobs, but all of Manhattan could feel her torment.

Without resistance, the familiar touch of her friends released the agony that approached her. Their support was needed. Ross wasn't the only one who needed help anymore.

Monica, Joey, and Chandler walked into the hospital steadily as an ominous fog shrouded their hearts. Monica told them that something wasn't right; they felt it too.

As the trio reached Ross's room, Monica peered through the window. Rachel was asleep, holding Ross's hand. Turning her head, she saw Carol and Susan playing with Ben. She carefully opened the door, and stepped inside.

Monica walked over to Carol and Susan while Joey and Chandler went to examine Ross, who was still passed out.

"Hello Carol." Monica said, as cheerfully as possible.

Carol pulled her ex-sister-in-law into a hug. "Monica, how are you feeling?"

"I wish I knew. How's Ross?" Her voice softened.

Carol pulled away and sighed heavily. She had to tell Monica the bad news, and then the worse news. She looked back toward Susan, who nodded, holding Ben tightly.

"The doctor came in half an hour after we arrived," Carol's voice began to tremble. "Ross had a seizure."

"What?" Monica's face turned blue and her hands began shaking. "A _**seizure**_? How the hell did that happen?" Monica nearly yelled out in pain for her brother. Chandler and Joey double-timed it to her side.

Carol quickly grabbed Monica's shoulders, ripping the proverbial band-aid.

"That's not all. They said it was psychogenic, and that he might have post-traumatic stress disorder."

"A-Are you serious? That's impossible! How? When?" Her yelling woke Rachel up.

"We don't know. Rachel said it happened out of nowhere while they were asleep." Carol looked toward Rachel, who stood up and ran over to them.

Monica whipped around, her body becoming numb. Rachel caught her in a hug, followed by the rest of the group. _My brother. My brother will never be the same._

"We're so sorry, Mon." Rachel cried out, remembering the gut-wrenching horror she felt when it all happened. She was thankful Monica didn't witness that.

"I-I need to take a walk." Her voice reeked with denial as she broke off from the group hug.

Monica ran out of the room, her friends shocked and somber.

Rachel immediately attempted to run after her, but was pulled back by Joey.

"I think you should let her go, Rach." He said quietly.

Rachel gave him a cold stare. Angrily, she hissed. "The last time I let somebody go…" She looked over to Ross, and tears fell down her cheeks. They would never understand her plight.

"I'll go with her." Chandler gravely declared.

"Wh- Are you sure, man?" Joey queried, tepidly.

Chandler simply nodded, and left. It was hard enough to see Rachel in such a splintered state, but now Monica? He wouldn't allow it. He would fight for his friends, _die _for them even. Despite his happy-go-lucky demeanor and his river of jokes, Chandler knew when it became a matter of dire consequence.

Those left in the room gathered around Ross, and Rachel took his hand yet again.

"I need you, Ross. I need you now more than ever." She rested her head on Joey's shoulder, wiping her tears away.

Rachel saw the emotions that swirled in Monica's eyes. They mirrored her own, but with extreme amounts of sadness. Monica was so much closer to Ross than she was, and he was her brother. To lose him would be like losing her own life. As she clutched Ross's hand, zeal had returned to pick up the broken pieces of her spirit.

She marched out of the hospital and headed whichever way her heart led her. The path was steeped in obstacles, and she didn't care whether she could get past them or not. Things really were getting worse, and the light was fading. Monica swallowed as she turned the corner, heading towards Central Park. She would do everything she could to make all the suffering would go away, so that Ross would get better. Of course, it was not that easy. The future became as gray as the skies.

Monica stared into the pond. The water was eerily still, enough to make it look like it was possible for her to walk on it. _Post-traumatic stress disorder. _Ross had to relive that moment for the rest of his life. Rachel, on the other hand, had to watch him go through it. They both felt guilty for what happened, and they couldn't move forward until that was dealt with. It encompassed them, choking the life out of them. No one in the world cared for Ross more than Rachel and Monica.

Ross couldn't protect his little sister anymore.

"Monica." A whisper; from heaven, she thought.

She craned her neck back to the sound of her name. Chandler stood behind her, arms outstretched, smile plastered on his face. Her euphoria could not described.

"I'm here for you, Mon." His tender voice made her icy heart melt.

Taciturn, she happily threw herself into his arms. The pain had been dulled. She had her friends, who would stick by her in the darkest days. The light that kept her afloat through the all the trials they went through.

"Thank you, Chandler." Color and glow returned to her beautiful face.

"You ready to head back?" He smiled at her, ready to fight the demons.

Monica rubbed her now moist eyes.

"Yeah. Ross and Rachel need us."


	9. Chapter 9: Let Go

**AN:I hope people are still reading this. :)  
><strong>**If anyone is wondering, it has been exactly three days since the accident by the time this chapter is over.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The deep, disarming voice of Ross's doctor ringed in her ears. His sour words, however, echoed through her mind, pulsating at an irregular rate.<p>

"_Ms. Green, your boyfriend has suffered a rather serious seizure."_

Rachel's heart cringed at recalling the scene.

"_A seizure? Didn't those only happen when you looked at flashing lights?"_

"_There are a number of causes. Mr. Geller's seemed to have stemmed from the trauma following his accident. As you can see on this chart, his brainwaves fluctuate vigorously. This is what's known as a psychogenic non-epileptic seizure."_

"_And? What the hell does that even mean, doctor?"_

"_We have reason to believe that he may have slight brain damage, and possibly post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD."_

"_Oh God… But wait. What about yesterday? He was doing better!"_

"_That was a marvel; but it may have just been an overproduction of adrenaline due to anesthesia during surgery. Delayed shock, simply put."_

"…_No…"_

"_We were able to help him with a heavy dose of doxylamine, a muscle relaxant, which stopped him from flailing. Normally we would have let the seizure run its course, but with his skyrocketing heart rate and the lack of oxygen going to his brain, it was very likely he would have died within minutes without immediate treatment."_

It finally dawned on her. He could have _**died. **_He could have died and left her forever. The very thought made Rachel scream, rebelling against the tears that terrorized her luminous eyes.

"Rach!" Joey hurried over to her, Carol and Susan in tow.

"Talk to me," Joey implored, focused. "Tell me what's wrong."

Nothing could come out. The memories had clamped their cold hand over her mouth. Only sniffling could be taken in by her friends.

Ross's hand fell from her chest, lifeless without her touch.

Joey understood her cries for help, her cries for _**him**_. He held his hand out toward her.

"J-Joey," Rachel's eyes met his, fogged. "He was supposed to be getting _**better**_! But now… H-He's slipping away…"

She was pulled into a jubilant embrace, her tears disappearing into Joey's shoulder.

Petting her cinnamon hair, he whispered lovingly. "He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it." Joey shed a tear at Rachel's expense.

In the midst of the sea of mourning, no one had noticed Phoebe gingerly saunter into the room. Walking past Carol and Susan, she wrapped her arms around Joey and Rachel, unsure of the situation before her.

"How're you feeling?"

"I'm sad, obviously, and I'm scared to death." She replied, cynically.

Monica and Chandler strolled through Central Park, pondering on the outcome of the bleak future ahead of them. Was this the feeling Monica felt earlier? She half-expected something bad had happened to Ross, but this hopelessness had consumed her, and sucked the light from her body like a black hole in the void. It was cold and merciless, gripping harder and harder each minute.

"No one will protect me anymore." Monica's words were barren of life.

"That's crazy, Mon. We'll protect you. All of us." Chandler smiled, which almost pushed the death grip of anxiety around her off a cliff. "And when Ross comes back, you'll have him too."

Monica choked up, bittersweet. "I just can't help it, Chandler. What if it was me? At least I wouldn't have to see my brother lie there with tubes in his face!"

Chandler quickly grabbed Monica and held her as tears escaped her sparkling cerulean eyes. What he witnessed at that point was true beauty. He could swim in those oceans, and stare into those perfect skies forever.

His heart racing from the amorous moment, he took a chance. "I'll protect you," Chandler's tone hollowed. "With my life."

"..What?" Monica looked at him, puzzled.

_His life?_

Chandler realized the gravity of what he just declared. His feelings for her had to be apparent now.

"N-Nothing," He stammered. "Let's get back, shall we?" Chandler's awkwardness took over as he pulled away from Monica. Stunned, she chose to slowly walk side-by-side with Chandler back to the hospital, both perplexed at what had just unfolded.

"I can't believe this," Phoebe gasped, revolted. "He seemed so happy… But it was all a lie?"

"More like denial. That's the gist, though." Carol explained, dismally.

Phoebe kneeled beside Rachel, who had barely noticed her come through the door in the first place.

"Rach, honey, are you ok?" Phoebe frowned in concern.

She nodded in hopes that Phoebe would leave her alone to wallow in a swirl of anger and despair.

"Okay, you can stop lying. I can see right through you, ya know." Phoebe laughed, cracking a smile.

"Ugh," Rachel groaned in misery. "Phoebe, I can't go on. Ross is never going to be the same again, and I don't know if I can live with that." She could feel the anguish crushing whatever positive tone in her words.

"Look at yourself, Rach. Do you think Ross likes to see you in so much pain? Do you think he wants you to feel guilty for what happened?" Phoebe's voice rose.

"Well, no-" Phoebe cut her off.

"You can't feel this way Rachel! You have to be strong. _**Strong!**_ It's what he needs you to be or else neither of you are ever going to get past this!"

Rachel remained tight-lipped. Phoebe was absolutely correct. She didn't have the willpower to simply 'be strong', however. That was Ross's job. It was all new to her, this responsibility, this affliction, this feeling of helplessness. Nothing truly felt **_right _**anymore. The breakup, the accident, their getting back together, what did it all mean? What did it all come down to?

Rachel debated whether to tell Phoebe of her nightmares, knowing that they symbolized more than just guilt. She might just be eccentric enough to understand; but there was nothing she could really about it.

Carol put her arm around Rachel cordially.

"Hon, I think you need some time away from Ross." Carol awaited the lash she would receive.

"_**What?**" _Rachel fixated on her with a cold glance.

"I think it would be good for you. When's the last time you've had a good night's sleep, anyway?"

Rachel pondered, and answered sadly. "A couple weeks, I guess."

"See? You need some _Rachel_ time." Susan chuckled, trying to cheer her up.

Of course, they were right. But Rachel could not bring herself to leave Ross's side.

"Susan's right, Rach. You need to stay back so you can have a running start." Phoebe stated, eyes widening at her wit.

"Yeah, and don't worry, we'll keep a close eye on him." Joey smiled, patting her on the arm.

"Thanks, you guys." Rachel smiled, knowing she had no strength to fight her friends. Her spirit was drained yet again.

Rachel listlessly packed up her purse, which held nothing more than her wallet, keys, and the coffee she had made hours earlier. She realized that she had completely forgotten something.

"Carol," Rachel looked up at her. "Do you mind if I take that picture you took of us?"

"Oh, of course not!" Carol reached into her jacket and pulled the photo out, happily handing it to Rachel.

"Picture?" Joey wondered, confused.

Rachel showed the heartwarming scene to Joey and Phoebe, who were speechless at the beautiful sight before them. They gave each other the most exultant smile, ready to burst from cheer.

"Tell Monica and Chandler I'll be at the apartment." Rachel announced, breaking the silence. Joey, Phoebe, Carol, and Susan complied.

Rachel did not look back as she left the room. If she did, her heart would ache with the feeling that she had forsaken Ross, **_abandoned _**him.

The air chilled with the breath of winter, despite the sun shining brightly. Streets were busy with people, all of whom had their own troubles, and would never bat an eye to help Rachel with her's. She robotically trudged to the apartment, ignoring the cruel and heartless world that made itself evident that night. She reached the building where she had lived for the past two and a half years, but it felt completely foreign to her. The first step inside brought back a rush of nostalgia, followed by a haunting memory of that day.

No. No! Rachel couldn't think about that now, she needed to forget the pain, the anger, the screaming, and the betrayal. Those did not matter anymore.

Each step proved to be more difficult, more arduous to walk. Intangible hands grabbed her ankles, ready to break her. She needed to be strong, strong enough to fall on the bed that her and Ross proved their love on many times, to bask in his warmth, even if it lasted for only a second. She unlocked the door, pushed open the single barrier to her soul. The air was good. It was familiar. The aroma of flowers and food greatly contrasted the faint smell of bleach and blood that hovered around her in the hospital. The window let the bright rays of passion shine through her home. Rachel was back, and while she was alone, her heart was not. Ross was with her, his arms holding her tightly. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe.

There was no need to eat, or even look in the mirror. Rachel wrapped herself in her pink sheets on her soft and comfortable bed, with the thought of Ross holding her as her own antihistamine. Ecstasy flowed through her frail body and the Sandman would soon come to whisk her away into paradise. As she closed her eyes, happiness broke through the wall that was her mind and exorcised the shadows of the man that eclipsed her heart.

Rachel had hope.


	10. Chapter 10: In My Hour of Need

"Ross! Ross!" She screamed, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. The hallway became darker and darker with each breath, and the floor cracked underneath her with every step, ready to plunge her into the abyss. Running to or from, it did not matter. She needed to find him, to see him for one last time before the darkness claimed her as a trophy.

From the moment Rachel had fallen into slumber, she was running. The cumbersome weight of guilt tugged at her skin, and the silence deafened her once again. The faster she ran, the faster oblivion had chased her. These halls she sprinted through, what could they be? The hospital?

The walls quickly began lining with ice, becoming thicker and thicker the farther she reached. It became evident that Rachel was trying to be stopped. Turning around was not an option, as whatever was behind her would easily envelop her. The air shifted frigidly and one by one, her senses failed. All seemed lost.

No, she had to push through. She had no choice.

Rachel's body shivered in the night, tossing and turning every which way. Her hair matted to the pillow, and the sheets clung to her soft, supple skin like velvet on a cushion. It was a battle to behold, and the side that was losing had yet to be determined.

The frozen halls met, shutting her out of freedom. As she raised a hand to touch the ice, a white feather fell into view as it gently descended to the ground. Rachel noticed the heat protruding from it as it hovered toward the cold floor. It felt orgasmic as the warmth grazed the surface of skin, like letting a bird out of its cage. Following the first, another feather fell before her, giving her the same feeling. Rachel lifted her head to see her reflection in the steel-like crystals, a steady trail of white feathers plummeting into the chasm that opened beneath her. It did not occur to Rachel as to why she did not fall in herself. The one thing that did draw her attention was her reflection, as a glowing and lustrous silhouette stepped from the shadows behind her. His head lay upon her shoulder, his arms seizing her from the ever growing darkness.

Rachel knew that touch; it was **_Ross_**.

As he shielded her from the shade that threatened to swallow them, the stream of feathers fell faster, piling up into a mountain under their feet. Their hearts began beating in sync, releasing a shockwave that slowly pushed everything back. As Ross pecked Rachel lightly on the cheek, he stared into the glassy ice in front of them. Once her eyes met his, the impasse began to collapse, crumbling with a distinct hiss; the ice began melting, and light had finally returned, illuminating the end of the once endless halls. Their reflection disappeared into the light ahead, but not before Rachel noticed the angelic wings that sprouted from behind her. Ross surrendered his beloved as she walked into the light. He knew it was safe now.

"Ross?" Rachel's eyes shot open, blurred.

She blinked several times to regain focus, and caught the familiar pink walls that she had grown to love. Straying to the clock in front of her, the red digital numbers read 5:56 a.m. Right next to that was her favorite picture, her and Ross at the Museum of Natural History. He was dusting her with a fossil brush, and they were standing together, just like in her dream. It made her smile uncontrollably. Placing her hand on the glass, she ran her thumb over his handsome and perfect face.

Now, however, it was time to make room for a new picture.

Chandler paced the living room of his apartment, wondering about the situation. Were things going to get weird between them now? Did she like him back? How was Ross going to react? He was still in awe at the mettle he had at the park yesterday.

_"I'll protect you. With my life."_

How could he have said that to Monica? That look on her beautiful tear-stained face, grilling him, waiting for an answer. Despite the confusion and sadness in her eyes, she was so beautiful, and he was in too much shock to reply. He simply dodged her flummox and decided to walk back to the hospital, so that their friends could cut the tension.

Perhaps he should have taken advantage of her; then he wouldn't have this malfeasance hovering above him. But he could not do this to her, or to Ross. No, he respected them too much to act on his feelings.

A door chirred open, and Chandler eyes shot up, revealing a very tired Joey.

"Dude, did you sleep at all?" Joey asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Not rea- dude, put on some pants!" Chandler covered his eyes with his arm, fully awake now.

Joey quickly ran inside to put on sweatpants, and walked back out embarrassed like usual.

Chandler sighed. "As I was saying, I didn't really sleep that much." He looked up at Joey, stunned.

Joey's nodded his head in assurance. "Ross?"

"Yeah. Monica too." Chandler scuffed the floor, ashamed.

"What?" Joey queried.

"I think she knows, man." Paranoia filled his voice.

Joey was taken aback by Chandler's statement. "What? How?"

"Yesterday, after I followed her, she said something about no one could protect her or something, and I said I'd protect her with my life." His tone ripened into sadness.

"Dude, you never say that to a woman!" Joey exclaimed, matter-of-factly.

Chandler groaned. "I know, I know, but I did and now I don't know how she's taking it!"

Joey raised his hands in defense. "Alright, just calm down. She stayed at the hospital last night, right? She probably forgot by now."

"But-"

Their conversation was interrupted by a knocking at the door, which Chandler promptly opened, revealing Rachel in a bathrobe, arms crossed.

Chandler looked at her, unable to decipher her expression.. "What's up, Rach?"

Rachel strolled in, weary. "Have you guys seen Monica?"

"She stayed with Phoebe at the hospital." Joey replied on Chandler's behalf. "And Phoebe decided to stay after Carol and Susan left."

"Are you guys going today?" Rachel sat down on the recliner, turning it around to face them.

Chandler hastily responded. "I gotta work, unfortunately."

Joey glared at Chandler, knowing that was a lie. He turned back to Rachel. "I'm not sure yet."

"Okay, 'cause I don't know whether I want to or not." She said with indecision.  
>"You heard what Pheebs said, Rach. You should stay home for a couple more days." Joey sat on the arm of the chair, putting his arm around her.<p>

Rachel laid her head on Joey's waist. "I guess you're right."

"I'll stay with you then." Joey stated, rubbing her arm.

"Thanks, honey." Rachel sighed, unsure of her own feelings.

Chandler decided to dress up in work attire, acting like he was heading to his job.

"Alright kids, I gotta head off." Kissing Rachel on the cheek and nodding at Joey, who was still suspicious, he left.

"That reminds me," Rachel picked up the phone. "I need to call into work."

"I'll make breakfast." Joey headed towards the fridge, his haven.

"Hi, Joanna? It's Rachel-" She was instantly interrupted.

"Where the hell have you been? Your load is piling up and Sophie can't do her work, let alone yours!" Joanna's blood was boiling.

Rachel attempted to speak, to no avail. "Joanna-"

Joanna's shouting turned into a scream. "If you are not here in one hour you are fired!"

"Plea-"

The call was cut.

"What was that?" Joey asked, worried.

"I have to go to work," Rachel's tone softened. "Or else I'm fired."

Joey gave a look of quiet distress. "Maybe you should go, Rach. Might take your mind off of you-know-who."

Rachel groaned, unable to protest.

"I'll head to the hospital then." Joey said affirmatively.

Rachel showered and dressed up as fast as possible in her gray suit, nearly bringing her entire closet down on her. Slipping into her black pumps that Ross had bought for her, she swiftly made her way into Bloomingdales, avoiding Joanna like the plague.

"You were this close to getting fired." Sophie whispered, making the measurement with her fingers.

"I know," Rachel stated, annoyed. "Just gotta make it through the day."

Joanna hoofed past the duo, ignoring them, exactly the way they wanted it.

"I think he likes you." Phoebe chortled.

"I don't." Monica's retorted, disapproving.

Phoebe groaned. "Oh, come on! It's so obvious now!"

Monica stubbornly disagreed. "Phoebe, don't even joke like that! He does not, okay? He's just a good friend."

Phoebe scoffed. "All the more reason!"

"Ugh," Monica became agitated. "Does that even matter? We have bigger fish to fry!" She motioned to Ross.

"Fine, fine. But you know I'm right." Phoebe said, hinting of arrogance.

Hell, maybe she was right this time.

A legion of thoughts came and went; all of them focusing on one thing. The short springs proved to irritate his fragile back, and humming of the machines were nothing short of deafening. He had forgotten her dazzling eyes, and the smile that was the epitome of radiance. Her soothing voice, that helped him much more than any medicine, was nothing more than a memory he couldn't recall; Ross didn't want another seizure. All he wanted was to feel her lips again, to wake up from this dreaded nightmare that had haunted him for days. What he wouldn't give for that.

Yet, here he lay, back at square one.

How did he wake up last time? Was he even really awake? It could have easily been another dream; another nightmare he couldn't wake up from. Ross felt his own blood course through him, it was mind-boggling how something like that was keeping him alive. It felt painful, to lie there, conscious, unable to remember anything. The voices that came from the east; one was familiar, one was not. Something strange was afoot, and he was lost in time.

Ross couldn't see the light. All he could do was visualize it. It did not carry the warmth it did when **_she_ **stood in front of it.

One particular dream he could recall, however, was vividly pleasing; it was not like the rest. Most of it was pitch black, but towards the end of it, he saw her, surrounded by ice. Rachel was almost frozen herself, and he knew he had to do something before it was too late. The twilight behind him chose to release it's captor, and he moved in. Wrapping himself around her, he closed his eyes to feel her touch once more. As she leered into the reflection, something made him do the same. For the split second his eyes were opened, something was different about him.

Wings?


	11. Chapter 11: Guns and Angels

Chandler set the cup down, wobbling, as his mind drifted through the seven seas.

"_So what are you gonna do?"_

"_What can I do? One person wants to break up, you break up."_

"_Hey, no way! Come on, this is you guys. Call her, and work it out."_

"_Oh come on, we just had this huge fight, all right, don't I have to wait a while?"_

"_Hey, this isn't like swimming after you eat, pick up the phone!"_

He could have stopped it all. He could have prevented this suffering, and yet he was too drunk, too lost to even think about anyone but himself that night. Like usual, Chandler attempted to get laid, but even inebriated club girls would not go for him. He became ignorant to the disaster that was happening across the room. The guilt surged through Chandler's mind, completely expelling Monica and that can of worms. His best friend could be dead right now, and he never got to say good-bye. To think of all they've been through, only to have it taken from him and everyone else so fast, so sudden. Life really is short, and being sad or pissed off all the time just isn't worth it.

Chandler thought about the rest of his friends: Rachel and Monica, both affected in their own ways, but equally hurt, nonetheless. Joey, who, while good at acting tough, was easy to read. And Phoebe, who simply hid her emotions, winced at any mention of Ross. Honestly, Chandler would switch places with him in a second. Ross had more to lose. A functional family, a loving girlfriend, a son, a job he didn't hate, etc. Everything that was missing from Chandler's life. It'd be easier for him to just waste away, no one to miss him. While his quiet modesty often made him believe that no one cared about him, he actually hoped this might be true in a situation like this. Things simply would have been better off. No harm, no foul. Then, he would be able to forget about _**her**_.

True, he did have feelings for Monica. At one point, he had feelings for Rachel and Phoebe too; those dissolved relatively quickly, however. Monica was the middle ground. Beautiful, yet not shallow. Fun to be around, but not eccentric. Chandler meant what he said yesterday, but his worries lied in the fact that Monica would create a false ulterior motive for his words. That he was creepy, or that he tried to take advantage of her while she was vulnerable. Chandler tried his best to seem genuine, despite not knowing if he actually was. The fact of the matter remains, however, that he loves his friends, and he would protect Monica with his life; with no romantic intention whatsoever.

Unfortunately for him, Monica had a different perspective.

To her, Chandler was the joker of the group. The funny man. The guy they counted on to eradicate any awkwardness in the room; this was untrue yesterday, however. Something became totally different about him; something serious. His blitheness nullified into pure resolve. Suddenly, she felt safe with him. Whether or not Chandler had feelings for her, he replaced that emptiness that Ross had filled. Monica was perfectly content with that; but her own feelings? No.

It was nothing more than a little crush. It had to be. If she kept telling herself this it would have to go away, right? She lived across from him for more than 4 years, and not a single ounce of heat between them. It had to be the circumstances. Monica felt exposed, and her heart was pouring out emotion ever since the accident. All of them were shaken since that night, and they were just being there for each other like good friends are supposed to be. That had to be it, right?

Chandler took another long and thoughtful drag from his cigarette, flipping the newspaper to the business section.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joey burst through the front doors of Central Perk, clearly angry that Chandler was smoking.

Chandler chuckled lightly and put his hands up in a mock defense. "Oh no, you caught me!" He set down his newspaper. "Aren't you supposed to with Rachel?"

Joey took his cigarette and stubbed it out. "She went to work. Why'd you lie? Better yet, why are you smoking, Chandler?" He put his hand on his buddy's shoulder.

Chandler sighed heavily, putting his head into his hands. "Look man, I needed time to think. We've all been on edge. I can't have one smoke?"

"Dude," Joey paused, turning towards him. "There are better ways. Talk to me."

His voice fell pensive. "I feel guilty."

"Why?"

"I could've stopped Ross that night from ever sleeping with Chloe, but I didn't." Tears started running down his cheeks, as he stood up and turned his back to Joey.

Joey did the same and patted Chandler on the back. "Hey man, we didn't know what was going to happen. You can't let this get to you."

Chandler scoffed at Joey's attempt to cheer him up. "Yeah, but when Ross wakes up and Monica tells him what I said, he's gonna kick my ass!"

"You guys are best friends. He would never do that. Now come on. Don't you want to see him? And her?" Joey's eyes widened as Chandler turned around, and nodded. They promptly left the coffeehouse, but not before Chandler left his fear with it.

Ross turned to look at her one last time; he would never forget that beautiful face and seraphic voice as Rachel said 'I love you'. The plastic frown on her face melted as he stepped onto the ship, bound for France. The terror that had steeped through him made him cringe at the final step; it was no longer the port in New York. It had crumbled into dirt, and the skies became overcast. The sight of smoke was abundant, and the whistling of bullets were heard all around. He stood in a trench; dirty, wet, and smelled of death. Ross tried to convince himself it was a dream, but he knew it would just end up with him in another chimera. Peeking out of the hole, it was no longer France; it was the Western Front of 1918. Holding his now weightless rifle, the next sound he heard made him nauseous.

"Over the top!"

Ross simply sat down, waiting for fate to take him. Just like that night. Why the hell would he even be having a dream about World War I? What is this test he's being given? Maybe, in his dreams, he had control. He just needed to figure out how to use it. The only thing holding him back was fear; fear that he could not destroy by himself. Rachel Green. That was her name, and that was his salvation. That was the angel that would fly down from the heavens and take him home, out of this stupid cycle of nightmares. Still, there was nothing. None of the accursed wings to pick him up like last time, to melt the ice ahead. Ross had but one choice.

Fight. Fight to the end. Pass the threshold into No-Man's Land. He needed to stop running, and fight back against himself. Finally, he knew what these dreams meant. He had to fight. Not just for him, but for all his friends. To take up arms against an opposing force: his own mind. Thus, he climbed onto the edge of the trench, and stared at the vast expanse of brown and bodies in front of him. Clutching his rifle, his _**sanity**_, he dashed forward, ready to meet the enemy. His single thought was of his beloved. With his hopes and dreams behind him, Ross pushed through the barbed wire and landmines that littered his mind, disintegrating from his desire to fight for her. Soon enough, he stared into the death that were the German machine guns ahead, and smiled.

In a bright flash, Ross's lifeline had come for him, covered in the whitest satin gown, holding her precious hand out. He stood strong, and placed her upon a golden pedestal, where she can be worshipped like the goddess she is. Her skin shimmered like diamonds in the nirvana that embraced her. The barking of the guns ahead proved to be futile in their attempt to discourage his already known triumph. He marched forward, grabbing Rachel's hand, sweeping him away from the battlefield. In the mix of time and space that transported them, he gazed into her celestial eyes, and saw his entire future- with her, of course.

"Ross… I'm here now." Rachel's rapturous voice had enriched his already fiery heart.

They returned to that night. The night that neither of them ever wanted to come back to. Yet it is not about what they want; it is about what they need. And so he stood, with the barrel pointed at him again. But he did not surrender his belongings, nor raise his hands. He scrutinized his mugger, taking in his oily face and long hair. Rachel put her arms around her darling, and waited. Again, Ross smiled at his assailant, knowing it was safe. He spat into the face of the coward, and, as the New York wind blew, they were gone again.

In his promised land, Ross kissed Rachel, his spirit freed from its prison.

Freedom felt good.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: "Over the top!" was the command used by both sides in World War I in which troops had to leave the safety of their trenches and attempt to take an enemy's position. It was usually certain death, but it was the only way to advance. "No-Man's Land" was the large and open area in between trenches.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12: A Lie and a Realization

He loosened his tie, which had been suffocating him more and more each inch of the way. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he grabbed the fear and rehearsed how he would go about all of this. It would not be easy, and it would probably end up with him getting hurt.

Chandler decided to take that risk. Peering through the window, he saw Monica sitting next to Ross, flipping through a magazine. She still looked so ravishing, and she was the most beautiful of God's creatures. Her flaxen hair, clinging to her cheek, was a sight to behold. Each strand belonged to that of a cherub, so young and innocent. Then there were her _**eyes**_. An endless whirlpool to her heart, a gateway to the soul which let in all the light of the world. If Chandler was a poet, he would definitely start writing about them that very moment. In truth, he could stare into those baby blues forever. They could be the last thing he ever saw and he would die happy. Monica's beauty nearly made him faint at that moment, but he knew he needed to tell her his feelings _before _his knees buckled, so the throes of rejection would be stymied.

"You ready, man?" Joey put his hand on his friend's shoulder, anxious to see how Monica would react. Never in a million years did he expect Chandler to reveal his feelings for her. Yet here he was, proud of his comrade-in-arms.

Chandler sighed heavily. "Yeah. Now or never." A wicked smile drew across his face, ready to accept whatever was coming to him. There was no turning back now, and it was best to face death with a grin, lest he brand you a gutless jellyfish.

All doubt was pushed aside; it would only make him hesitate. As he opened the door and walked in with Joey, Monica's pearly cobalt eyes shot up. She flashed a smile which threatened to attack Chandler's heart, yet he stood ready.

"Hey, you guys." Monica's voice became the sweetest nectar. It proved to be the voice in his head, pushing him to succeed in any endeavor. It was there when he was at work, droning day in and day out, telling him that he gets to see his friends- and her- at the end of the day.

Joey noticed a flaw in the plan that Chandler did not; Phoebe. She was on the other side of the room, smiling back at him. Immediately, he had to improvise. He would have to take her out of the equation, otherwise this would be nothing more than a folly.

"Hey, Pheebs!" Joey called, waving. He noticed the shock in Chandler's eyes; they had no plan 'B'. They had to go on raw instinct. "You wanna go grab some fried chicken from the cafeteria?"

"Well, actu-" Phoebe was interrupted.

"Alright! Let's go get some chicken!" Joey nervously pulled Phoebe out of the room, in the way that only he could. He winked at Chandler before leaving, leaving both him and Monica alone, a little startled. They turned to face each other, with her smiling and him scared to death.

For what seemed like forever, they looked at each other, smiling. Her beauty captivated him, and it took about a minute for Chandler to break the calm.

"So how is he doing?" He motioned toward Ross.

Monica exhaled weakly, but with solace. "They said he might wake up today." This brought great relief to them both, as the tension could be cut with a knife.

"That's… great." Chandler was obviously happy that his best friend was okay, but he wasn't happy that his best friend might catch him hitting on his sister.

Once again, silence filled the air. It was extremely unsettling.

Monica stared into his very soul, shining her luminescence into him. "Look Chandler, I need to tell you something. Something important." Her tone ripened into qualm, as if she was afraid of him. Seeing this, he was taken aback slightly.

He inquisitively leered at Monica, unsure of what was about to happen.

She froze in place, terrified. The fear had gotten to her. She did not want to hurt Chandler, but it had to be said. Pained, she spoke. "Umm, well, I don't know if it's because of whats been going on, and that I've been feeling… vulnerable, or something," Monica paused, ready to be torn asunder. Her heart had been ripped into two, and the final words came out, distraught.

"I think, I may have feelings for you."

Chandler's mind had shattered into pieces. _She_ had feelings for _him_? And here he was, fretting, sweating, and brooding over their now effectively destroyed friendship. As he stood, his foolish attempt to remain stalwart backfired; he practically doubled over in agony. Monica hastily tried to help him, but he pulled away in protest. He believed he was saving her the trouble of lifting a finger to assist him, but in reality, this hurt her more than anything. Struggling to speak, Chandler shivered from the chills that ran up his spine. His body fell numb, and his throat dried up. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Monica began crying, her shimmering sapphire eyes gleaming at him. Unable to judge his expression, she shouted in anguish. "Please, Chandler, say something!" His eyes shot back and forth in hysteria at what she had told him.

Stammering, the denial is clear in his tone. "I-It's unbelievable."

"What? What is?" Monica grilled him for an answer.

"Someone, as beautiful as you," Chandler swallowed rigidly, eyes widening with doubt. "Having feelings for someone like me…" His voice began trailing off, wondering how to wake up from this hallucination gone wrong.

"Chandler…" Monica blushed at his compliment, but snapped back to the situation briskly.

"H-How long?" His breathing became sluggish as he placed his hands on his hips, reeling in disbelief.

"I don't know. I've been lost ever since the accident. Then you said you'd protect me…" Monica began choking up, remembering the very moment. "Again, it's probably just because of all that's happened." She wiped her tears away, before glancing at him. "I just felt like you should know."

Monica turned her back on him. It was over, and the weight was lifted off of her shoulders, but it didn't feel any better. It took all of her remaining strength to keep from breaking down then and there. It was physically exhausting to even stand up. She headed over to the wall and leaned on it for support, nauseated.

Barely a whisper, her voice began to breaking up to a mere child's squeal. "Don't you feel the same way?"

Chandler's ears had betrayed him. Every single fiber of his being was crushed under this immense misery. It hurt so much, that he couldn't even feel it anymore. His heart had been deadened. He had failed in his mission. _Protect her_. He was a complete coward, running away like she was a pandemic. He never even realized what Monica was thinking; that she felt the same way he did. No, Chandler thought that she was simply trying to avoid hurting him. Monica was trying to protect him. _Save _him. Yet, she failed as well.

"…No." Chandler couldn't bring himself to do it. Not like this. Not while she was in so much turmoil. That would serve to destroy whatever relationship they had beyond repair. Nobody would win, and things would never be the same between them.

Stolid keystrokes bore a hole into her brain. Her wrists cramped, and her eyes became bloodshot. The long and unforgiving day hadn't taken effect until now. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above irritated her past her breaking point. Rachel never believed that one day at work could have been so hard. However, it did take her mind off of Ross. Until now.

Droning in and out of reality, Rachel began to daydream about him. Sleeping in his hospital bed, wondering if he could feel anything. It must be cold, she thought. All alone in his mind, unable to focus on anything but his own dreams. She would do anything to take Ross's torment from him. Even if it cost her everything.

All she really wanted was to kiss him again, to hold his hand and become one with him. To prove that their love is eternal; that they can pull through anything. That this is no longer a nightmare that neither of them can wake from. Rachel quickly became anxious at the very thought. And, this made her work harder, just so she can get the hell out of there and go home.

The air in the office became thick, and Rachel realized that she was no longer the only one there. Attempting to ignore the presence, she continued to fill the last of her orders, and simply leave. Of course, this was easier said than done.

"Hey, Rach." That voice was familiar- and not welcome. Smiling a disgruntled smile, Rachel replied.

"Hey, _Mark_. What are you doing here?" Her tone filled with intentional annoyance, hoping that he would take the hint. He was the last person she needed to see right now. In fact, he was the last person she ever wanted to see.

Mark hung in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. "Joanna said that she left my last paycheck here?"

Rachel remembered Joanna tossing an envelope on her desk earlier, but passed it off as something miniscule. Pulling it out from under dozens of other papers, she did see it was indeed addressed to Mark. She sighed, and turned around to face him.

"Here." She quickly handed it over to him. Finishing her final order, she packed up her bag and tried to leave, but Mark had more to say.

"You, uh, wanna share a cab?" Noticing her tone, he decided to persist to make amends for whatever he had done.

Rachel sighed, knowing that it was not safe to walk home at night anymore. She decided to take up on his offer knowing that she was wrongfully mad at him. She looked at him and smiled, a bit more sincerely. He nodded back, and they leave the office.

Flagging a taxi, he opens Rachel's door, which surprised her. Never had he been so mannered. She thought of it as nothing, and she sat down in the back seat as they instructed the directions to their apartments.

As Rachel listened to the quiet pitter patter of the rain on the window, that night came screaming back to her, like it was a horror movie. Tears made their way down her silky smooth cheeks, and she tried to hush her sobs.

"_I think you should go now."_

"_..What?"_

"_I really think you should go now."_

"_Okay, okay. This morning you said there was nothing so big that we couldn't work past this together-"_

"_Yeah, what the hell did I know!"_

_"Look, look, there's got to be a way we can work past this, okay. I can't imagine... I can't imagine my life without you. Without these arms, and your face, and this heart. Your good heart Rach, and, and..."_

_"No, I can't, you're a totally different person to me now. I used to think of you as somebody that would never, ever hurt me, ever. God, and now I just can't stop picturing with **her**, I can't, it doesn't matter what you say, or what you do, Ross. It's just changed everything. Forever."_

The rest was too painful to remember. Her own words appalled her. The holding, the crying, it was too much to bear. It never should have happened in the first place.

Without her even realizing it, they were stopped outside of Rachel's apartment.

"Rachel?" Mark's voice brought her back from her reverie.

Rachel shook her head to keep herself awake. "Yeah? Oh. Sorry." She pulled out her wallet, dazed. Looking at the meter, she attempted to pay half the amount.

Mark put his hand up in dissent. "Don't worry, I've got it." He paid her half of the fare, which she greatly appreciated, but lacked the energy to show it. She glimpsed at him, and he knew she was thankful.

"Thanks, Mark. Goodbye."

"Wait." His tone became soft as he spoke again, while she scooted halfway out of the cab.

Mark leaned over, and pulled Rachel into a deep kiss, one that was tender and passionate but not well-received. She immediately pulled back, slapping him with her purse. The anger in her eyes was plain as day. She demanded an answer.

"Mark, what the _**hell **_is wrong with you!"

"I-I'm sorry, I did-" Rachel cut him off from his attempt to explain.

"God, just get the hell away from me!" She stormed out of the cab with her bag and walked into her building, dumbfounded as to why he would even try to make a move on her like that. It didn't matter; what he did was wrong, and now she knew for sure that Ross's jealousy for him was fair and just.

Still shaken from what just occurred, Rachel staggered up the stairs to her apartment, feeling the same ethereal hands trying to stop her. They almost did. Unlocking the door to her apartment, the dark halls from her dream ambushed her. Frightened, she stumbled into her home. The lights were off, but there was an unmistakable noise.

Monica laid on the couch, howling in distress.


	13. Chapter 13: Awakening to Death

**AN: This chapter starts at the around the same time the last one did, and ends at around the same time the last one did.  
><strong>**I hope that makes sense. :)**

* * *

><p>"Joey, what's going on? You know I don't eat chicken!" Phoebe's voice echoed throughout the hallways, causing quite a commotion. While she did enjoy meat at a stressful time like this, her unexpected trip downstairs killed her craving.<p>

"I know, Pheebs, but I had to get you outta there 'cause Chandler is about to tell Monica that he likes her!" Joey hurriedly led her down the hallway, whispering. He was as anxious as Chandler, yet nowhere near as nervous.

"Oh gosh, really? That is so cool!" Phoebe held onto his hand, grinning and nodding.

"Yeah, but I mean let's go get some food anyway. I'm _**starving**_!" Joey yelled, as they rushed down to the cafeteria.

The hailing of tears crashing to the floor brought him back from his stupor. Everything in the room was amplified, and Ross knew that he was awake. The vexed cries throughout the room were explicit. One was his sister's, and the other… Chandler? What the hell was going on? Did he hurt her? He needed to see what had transpired, but no matter how hard he tried, the world would not return. The only clear-cut thing that he make out was a definitive 'No' by Chandler. What did he decline? Monica soon broke down into tears and promptly ran out of the room, which did not get a peep out of Chandler. His eyes began to open, and he saw the horrible truth. Lifting his arm as high as he could, which wasn't even that high, he relied on Chandler to turn around. But all he did was walk forward, trying to chase her. Ross's eyes widened, as his friend reached the door. Screaming inside his own subconscious, Ross lamented in defeat.

_Turn around. Turn around damnit!_

Thus, he was alone again. The beeping of the machines were his only company, and they easily became a nuisance. Not enough strength to even push the call button for a nurse. Ross believed that this would not be as bad as comatose, but he was mistaken, like usual. For what seemed like hours, he waited for someone to step into the room, hoping it would be Rachel. There was nothing.

Chandler shuffled down the hallway, unable to concentrate on anything other than how he may have just ruined the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. Not only did he lose the potential love of his life, but he may have lost one of his greatest friends. She was too good for him, and after a while, he decided to let her run. It was stupid to think that this would have gone well. Chandler branded himself a coward; how could he ever face his friends again? This question burned in his mind as he stumbled into the cafeteria, dragging his feet towards Joey and Phoebe, not even having the courage to look directly at them. They remained speechless as he plopped himself into a chair next to them, burying his face into his hands.

"What happened?" Phoebe asked, sympathetically.

"I screwed up. Badly. God, I'm such an idiot!" Chandler forcefully stood up, pacing around the table. His voice became an outlet of self-loathing, with a hint of sadness. It was obvious that he had regretted his choice.

"Just tell us what happened." Joey took another bite of his chicken leg.

"Monica said she had feelings for _**me**_." Chandler placed his hands on his hips, still in denial. He whipped around, unable to look at anything other than the cold, hard ground. It suited him well, as that's where he belonged.

"Good lord Chandler…" Joey stood up to comfort his friend, just to be pushed away; just like he pushed away Monica.

Breaking into tears, Chandler's head shot up towards the ceiling, and he inhaled deeply. "T-Then she asked if I felt the same way…" His breathing became rapid, and the other people in the room soon took notice.

"Yeah?" Joey and Phoebe surrounded him. They noted the large black bags that hung under Chandler's eyes; they cradled several tears that threatened to fall. They already stained his shirt, and came close to staining the broken pieces of his heart.

"I couldn't say yes."

"Why not?" Joey became more than worried at this point.

"I didn't want to tell her I liked her since she wasn't sure that she really liked me." His tone carried the stench of bitterness.

"That is so crazy! You should've told her!" Phoebe yelled at him, enraged over Chandler's fear.

He shook his head in skepticism. "You didn't see her face… I couldn't hurt her…" His knees buckled, and he practically fell back into Joey. Chandler was quickly propped back up, and sighed in confusion. Recalling Monica's face, he began to calm down.

Phoebe put her hands onto his shoulders, soothing him. "So where is she?"

Chandler shrugged. "The apartment, I guess."

Joey and Phoebe pulled him into a hug, knowing that they needed to do damage control. It was settled: Chandler would stay at the hospital and Joey and Phoebe would search for Monica. The last thing on their minds was Ross, who had just woken up. He would just need to hold on for a little longer. The last thing he needed was his sister missing, and possibly hurt.

So he decided to trudge up back to Ross. How would he ever explain to him that he had feelings for his sister? As he traipsed into the room, the first thing he saw was the chocolate eyes staring at him. Ross was finally awake, and he sat up, able to move his arms, albeit not as well as he could. A wave of relief washed over Chandler, and he came to his best friend's side. Smiling, he asked Ross if he needed anything.

'Paper'. Barely a murmur, but better than nothing. Chandler reached over to his briefcase and pulled out a piece of college-ruled lined paper. Figuring he needed a writing utensil, he pulled out a small pencil as well. Handing it to Ross, he watched him begin to sketch something.

"Okay, Joey, you go look at Central _Perk_, and I'll go look for her at Central _Park_." Joey and Phoebe stood outside of the hospital, worried for Monica.

"Wait, what? You just said the same thing!" Joey had an extremely flustered look on his face.

Phoebe took a blank look to his dim-witted nature, and simply improvised. "Just go look for Monica at the coffeehouse, and I will meet you there!"

However, they were both too late.

The thin piece of metal was grasped tightly in her fist, encroaching upon her velvet skin. It glowed pale in the moonlight, contrasting her darkened heart. This was an affliction that could not be coped with. Is this how Rachel felt after the accident? Yet, she was stronger. She didn't have to do _**this**_. And, this was about a stupid crush; not the love of her life. How could this have gotten out of hand? It was Chandler._** Chandler**_. A guy who once joked about being her backup husband. Maybe, he really meant it. Either way, something about him was so different. He looked at her, and she would just feel so good. He said her name, and she would melt in her clothes. _Monica. _The very thought made her entire body tingle with passion. No matter how good she felt though, the fact was that he rejected her advances; he had no idea how much that hurt. At the very least, they would've had sympathy sex. The circumstances called for it, and Chandler wouldn't say no to that. Although, it may not be much better; Monica's feelings could not be kept in check. So here she sat, razor in hand, ready to release her troubles. A single flick of the wrist and a deep breath, and the warmth set Monica ablaze.

Not until the blood flowed to her cold fingers, and the copper fetor rushed into her brain, that Monica began to feel her snafu. It stung like hell. The metal clanked the floor, and she began screaming bloody murder. She was paralyzed, unable to move. All she could do was watch as the crimson fluid spurted out and tainted her perfect skin. Closing her eyes, hoping to let the man in black take her away, Monica thought of her friends. Those who had given her support in her time of need. This, however, she had to do alone.

Then Rachel walked through the door. Monica was half-angry about it, but there was nothing she could do. Rachel dropped her bag and immediately rushed over to her, almost vomiting at the sight. Grabbing several of their towels, Rachel attempted to clean up while calling 911. The ambulance could not come fast enough.

Who was next?


	14. Chapter 14: His Novocaine

"He's awake?" Rachel pushed her hands against her chest in hope, ready to see Ross in his recovered state. Despite it being midnight, this news invigorated her aching body. After Monica was admitted into the hospital, she implored her to check on Ross.

"Yeah. Come on in." Chandler led the trio in, still eager to help his friend in his time of need.

So the gang came in, sans Monica. However, that was not Ross's priority at the moment; he needed to see Rachel. See her, he did. She looked like she had just seen a corpse, or, perhaps even worse, a ghost, considering those aren't even real. Her cinnamon hair was clumped together and her mascara had been running profusely. Yet, she was still as beautiful as ever. Her eyes carried bags with them, like an omen of some sort. This brought great uneasiness to the Ross, and it appears that everyone knew what was going on other than him. Rachel walked over to him, who grabbed her hand this time. Their eyes locked in a furious onslaught of passion, not unlike Paris and Helen thousands of years before. Pulling his hand up to her cheek, which was colder than Fimbulvetr, he placed his thumb on her lip, motioning for a kiss. As the world slowed down, their lips locked in hot fury, which almost made them swoon; it felt even better than it did before. There were no words; only love. That was all that was needed. The universe was built for them at that moment; their kiss was not known to even the gods. Their hearts, that had been previously brimming with negative energy, as Phoebe would put it, were now rupturing with ecstasy. While their bodies heated up in the moment, out of the corner of his eye Ross noticed Chandler running out of the room at full speed, followed close by Joey. His thirst for knowledge was only matched by his ability to see right through people. Pulling back from Rachel, a look of concern washes over him. She noticed this, and nodded back to Phoebe, knowing the time has come.

Sighing deeply, her thumbs made small circles on Ross's hand. "Monica… hurt herself…" Rachel swallowed thickly, and looked at Ross, who was now shedding tears left and right. Taking her finger to wipe them away, he stuttered in pain.

"W-Why?" It was a soft whisper, coupled with a broken heart. Ross still had trouble doing anything, but it was better than nothing, especially after a seizure.

"I-I don't know, honey…" Rachel hugged his brittle build and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, ready to console her beloved. The group was falling apart, and now it was Rachel's job to be the glue that held them together, now that Monica was out of commission.

Ross could not speak after hearing this; he simply fell back towards the upright bed, closing his eyes, hoping the pain would go away. Why would Monica do such a thing? Was it because of Chandler? It had to be… But what did he do? The suffering was unbearable. To know that his sister was hurt, it killed him in an indescribable way. He couldn't cry anymore, either; the woe had formed a barrier in his eyes, stopping the tears, letting them crush him from the inside. As he lied in the throes of empathy for Monica's torture, he felt the familiar fingers comb through his hair. They were so soft, like cotton flowing in the spring breeze. Ross opened his eyes to her radiant face. To see those hazel beauties stare into his very soul; it was exhilarating, to say the least. Once Rachel had kissed him again, all those happy memories from their relationship came rushing back. To know that they would experience more and more as time went on, he was happy for the first time in ages. As Phoebe came over to better witness the piety between her lobsters, she saw the complete understanding and vivacity between them. It was unlike anything she had ever seen; and she had watched her own arm get blown off in two wars. They were in complete harmony with each other. Other than the bad feeling that Rachel was hiding something from Ross, they were the happiest she had ever seen them.

As they pulled from their amorous smooch, Ross dug into the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out several pieces of paper, each with a large rough sketch on them. Handing them to Rachel, her expression turned from rhapsody to astonishment. Ross was never an artist, but it was easy to tell what he had drawn. The very top paper: A man holding a woman from behind, arms wrapped around her neck, head rested on her supple virgin shoulder. They had emptiness instead of a face, but it took no time to figure out who they represented. The claws of the darkness reached for them from behind, yet could not lay a corrupt hand upon the couple.

It was obvious; this was Rachel's dream from last night. The frozen mirror that halted them in their journey, and their reflection within. The feathers that filled up the void beneath them. Finally, those _**wings. **_The wings that kept them from falling into darkness, and gave them strength to continue on their quest. To keep their spirit afloat long enough to let her walk into the light of Arcadia. To set her free, just like he was. Ross was her angel. Her guardian. To bring her to salvation.

Dropping the illustrations that were drawn by fate, Rachel collapsed on Ross, who was blissfully ignorant of the situation. It didn't matter. He was happy to be back, and in her arms. The road to full recovery was long, but with her, it would fly by.

Smiling, Rachel whispered gently into his ear. "I love you, Ross."

Struggling with the pain, Ross gingerly hummed back. "I love you more, Rachel."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, this is mostly Lobster fluff. However, they are the main point of this story, and Ross is getting better for real this time!<br>As for Monica... keep reading.**

**Also, Paris and Helen is a reference of Paris, Prince of Troy and Helen of Sparta.  
>According to legend, Paris abducted Helen to appease Aphrodite; their love began the Trojan War.<strong>


	15. Chapter 15: Unconditional Love

**AN: **This chapter is dedicated to 2good2betrue - I'll be there for you too.****

**Enjoy!**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>When the rose petals brush the still waters<br>__When the sun grazes your skin like blades of grass  
><em>_Will you still love me?  
><em>

_When the sand shifts upon the camel's stride  
><em>_When the wine spills in a never-ending spiral  
><em>_Will you still fight for me?_

Another failed attempt at poetry. Ross crumpled the paper in frustration, and tossed it into the wastebasket. He should never have given up that career in basketball. Follow your dreams, they said. Stupid. Falling back into the jagged rocks that were his bed, he glanced at the analog clock perched above the door: 2 a.m.. Two hours since he felt Rachel's seductive lips on his, pulling him into a meadow of lust. The Shangri-La of love. It was absolutely sublime, and he didn't want it to end. He had to send her home, however, as it was apparent that she needed as much sleep as possible. Even though she resisted, Ross told her it was for the best, and that he and Monica would be fine. Still, he missed Rachel. The next time she came in, he would surprise her with a poem, labored by him with passion. Yet, one after another, each piece of written art was tossed into the trash, as it had to be **_perfect_**, just like her. She had been through so much, and it was only customary that Ross take the burden off of her as her boyfriend. A surplus of grief plowed through Ross's heart at that moment, however. His sister. He hadn't seen her since she had stormed out of the room that afternoon; no one would reveal anything to him yet. Not even Chandler, who spent most of the day with him. They were all hiding something, and Ross needed to know what.

_Ribbons dance through the fissure  
><em>_Eroding the scarlet quarry  
><em>_My angel lies  
><em>_Fireflies frolic  
><em>_Forgotten  
>I shall lead the charge<br>To glory  
>To fame<br>To your love _

Again, a three-pointer into the trash. It's a shame that there is infinitely nothing romantic about dinosaurs.

A nurse walked into Ross's room holding an IV. "Mr. Geller, why aren't you asleep yet?"

Ross dropped his pencil into the tray in front of him and glimpsed at her, peeved. "I've been asleep for almost two days! If it weren't for you people, I'd be doing laps around the parking lot!" He crossed his arms and fell back into his bed, breathing under a low growl.

The nurse quickly shot him out of the sky with her glare. "Calm down, Mr. Geller. If you want, later you may go see your sister in once we put her in recovery."

Ross rolled his eyes. "Yeah, alright." He picked up his pencil and began trying to write as his caretaker left.

_Soon. Very soon._

The air became stagnant. The stench of blood still hung around, making breathing almost impossible in this thick zephyr. Or, perhaps, it was all in her mind. Either way, Rachel stepped into her now atrocious apartment, spotting the crimson floor in front of her. Dropping to her knees, she speculated as to why Monica would ever hurt herself like that. Was it Ross? No… there had to be more to it. Crawling to the couch, Rachel placed a finger on the small steel razor that rested on the now dyed-red rug. Wet to the touch. Rachel's wailing could not be stifled. Things were becoming more and more complicated, and Ross was no longer the only victim. Despite him getting better, he was in emotional hell between the influx of bad news. He would still be Ross, but not the Ross that she remembered. It was painful to even think of it. They needed to push through, otherwise no one would be happy again. As the group fell apart, the thread of hope kept them on the edge of the cliff. They had to hold on for just a little longer.

Cleaning up the mess that threatened to break down her walls, Rachel sat on her bed, pulling out Ross's drawing. This was the strangest black magic. He knew about her dream. He had drawn exactly what had happened. How the hell was that even possible? It had to be an outrageous coincidence. It had to be. Unless all of this was just her imagination. The sad part was that it was not.

Putting the heartwarming picture on her nightstand, Rachel pulled the fresh covers over her feeble body. They were cold and almost alien. Knowing that Monica would not be there when she woke up, it scared her beyond belief. After several minutes of gazing at the photo of her, Ross, and Ben, however, she slipped off into the land of Nod.

The Promised Land was lit ablaze with light green fire. Stepping down the polished sterling silver steps, Rachel immediately realized this was another dream; hopefully a good one, since these were the only things keeping her going at this point. Stepping through the barrier, the room she had descended upon carried large portraits upon it's marble walls, each adorned with bright red tapestries. Oil paintings of her and her betrothed, kissing in the church of doves. As she strolled forward in her duchess satin wedding gown that hugged her curves ever so lovingly, she caught two gorgeous cherry oak thrones ahead of her. They sat atop even more large steps, which were now aureate golden and engraved with blossoming lilies. What seemed like millions of people rubbernecked toward her, raging with envy. Rachel could not tell if she was smiling or not; but it did not matter. She was happy. She thought of this moment for years, and now she was experiencing it, even if it is only a dream. Sauntering towards her knight in shining armor, who, of course, was none other than Ross, she melted the glossy steps beneath her like the ice the night before. It was all because of him. Her champion. As they reached arms-length, the heat made her skin crawl. He took her into his embrace for a final time, and as he smiled, a cacophony of screeching noises penetrated the pearly gates of the church. Rachel never wanted this to end, but sadly, it had to.

Rousing instantly to her cold room, Rachel quivered in her pajamas. Her meager clothing did not bring the warmth that _**he **_did. She strenuously picked up her blaring alarm clock and slammed the dismiss button. It was just not worth it anymore to wake up. Grudgingly, she made her way towards the bathroom and began getting ready for work. Another long day of being Joanna's slave. The only thing that Rachel could cling onto was seeing Ross tonight.

_Soon. Very soon._

"Are you ready to see your sister, Mr. Geller?" The nurse pulled in a wheelchair for Ross, who was more than ready to see Monica. Pulling it over to him, Ross's doctor walked in, writing on his clipboard.

"Yeah." Ross grunted in return. The nurse positioned the chair for him so that all he really needed to do was fall off the bed, but even that would take all of his strength.

"Remember, Mr. Geller, this is not hospital protocol. Usually it takes more than four days for someone with an injury like yours to even come out of comatose, let alone try and move around so quickly. Since you do seem to be doing better, though, we have made an exception." His doctor began rambling on about procedure, which Ross simply drowned out and focused on moving into the wheelchair.

Ross flung his legs off the side of the bed, which caused excruciating pain. He needed to tough it out, however, as they would keep him in that stupid bed if they saw through his façade. Wheezing, he lifted himself into the chair. The cheap vinyl leather felt rough against his hospital gown, and the cold aluminum clashed against his scalding hot hide. After several seconds of torture from shifting positions, his body began to calm down. As Ross was wheeled to a room to the back of the ward, the atmosphere became foggy. The dozens of hospital staff walking past him looked and felt like zombies. He tried to ignore their seemingly haunting expressions, but could not. Luckily, they had already reached Monica's room. Ross took the deepest breath he could as the nurse opened the door for him. A chilling rush of air blasted him, sucking the warmth from the hallway. Once he entered the room, the smell of bleach and formaldehyde revolted his senses. Craning his head slowly to the left, Ross spotted Monica, and stiffened. She was asleep, or possibly unconscious. Her normally soft face was now firm and gaunt, and her lips were now rose-colored, which was obviously not the result of makeup. Ross rolled himself over to his sister, holding back sobs. He soon began to question the reason behind all of this. He placed his hand on her arm, and felt the strangest feeling. Turning it over, his malady veered out of control. Twelve stitches going up her arm, keeping the deep laceration from causing more complications to her frail form.

As he squeezed Monica's arm, Ross could not stop bawling. This was much more agonizing than anything; even than watching Rachel cry.


	16. Chapter 16: Romeo and Juliet

**AN: Here's some Chandler-torture for those of distinguished tastes.  
><strong>**I pray that you all are still enjoying this story.**

**Please review, I greatly appreciate it!**

* * *

><p>Running, always running. From his childhood, from his friends, from his relationships, everything.<p>

Chandler was never a fighter. He always stepped back and let nature run it's course, even if it stampeded its way through his heart. For so long through his childhood, all he could do was bottle it up until he was ready to burst. Then came the day of his parents' divorce. That day, his rage had boiled over, but instead of hitting something or screaming at the top of his lungs, Chandler began laughing. Out of the blue, just laughing as hard as he could to drown out the dysphoria and fury that had engulfed him. To anyone else, he was mad. To himself, he was trying to make the best of a bad situation. To his friends? They can never know. Chandler would not be discarded like trash again. His best friend and the love of his life were hurt, and it was all because of _**him**_. He had caused all of this, and yet he chose to turn his tail and flee. Chandler could never face himself, let alone the ones he called 'friend'.

So he ran. Speeding past the various patients and staff in the halls, who yelled in an attempt to appease their conscious by offering directions to the poor bastard running through the halls like an escaped mental patient. Passing through the double doors, Chandler left the hospital, going so fast that he had to stop in the middle of the street. As the headlights flew past him and the screeching of car horns drilled into his brain, Chandler headed for the safety of the median. The flashing high beams did not scare him once his foot landed upon the large concrete island. Instead, they became peaceful, like a transition scene in one of those sitcoms that take place in New York. Soon, however, he just wanted to become lost in the ocean of asphalt. To disappear from the face of the earth. He deserved it, after all, for causing everyone so much pain. But he could not bring himself to do it. Something kept him on this plane of meager existence. A mere thread that could not be broken by natural means, no matter how much he just wanted to let go. Chandler sat down on the pavement, trying to forge a mental image. Maybe everything that has happened to him was his fault, in one way or another. He tried to laugh, but sobs came out. Tears flowed down his cheeks. The jackboot of misery had finally thrust itself onto him, pushing Chandler into the hard gravel. He didn't care if his clothes were dirty; they suited him that way. The bitter February air felt nice, and he could just freeze to death and it wouldn't bother him. In fact, that's exactly what he wanted. A fitting end. Closing his eyes, Chandler waited for the curtains of his life to fall. His final likeness was that of the weeds in the cement fluttering in the darkness.

After awakening in the on the median to the bright and shining sun, groggy from not succumbing to the Grim Reaper, Chandler decided to face his fears. What did he have to lose? Absolutely nothing. Luckily, there were no cars on the street, since he didn't bother to look anyway. It was probably around 6 o'clock in the morning, but even then it was surprising for the area to be so devoid of life. It didn't matter to him, however, as he walked through the double doors and stepped forward to the receptionist.

Mumbling under his breath, Chandler put his hand coyly on the counter and, steaming with hesitation, he whispered with a stutter. "R-Room number for a Monica G-Geller?" His eyes crawled to the floor, ready to fall apart that very moment.

The receptionist peeked just over the glass that withheld her soft face and small figure, and, after finally hearing his request, began flipping through a binder that laid on the counter. Placing her tiny finger on what Chandler believed was Monica's name, she looked back up to him and spoke with a squeaky, almost child-like voice.

"Ms. Geller is in room R227, sir."

Chandler nodded and restlessly headed for the elevators, pressing the up button almost a million times, in an attempt that it would somehow come faster. Once it did, it dwelled for quite a bit before opening, only intensifying Chandler's anxiety. After a minute or so, the dull silver doors casually opened and he stalked into the elevator. It felt like walking into a prison cell; small and uncomfortable. No stone walls, only mirrors. Waking up to his own tired and sunken face every day, the thought of it made him think that it was possible to rip the metal apart and gain freedom. Chandler didn't even question as to why he was feeling like this. The watched pot never boils, and the watched doors never open. The metaphor stood. Staring at himself, Chandler noticed his blank face. Nothing. Completely empty. However, the reflections standing behind him were nothing short of perfectly lucid. The expressions on their faces were a blend of seasoned hatred and sadness. Ross and Monica. They looked so broken; so wooden. Like wax figurines, they stood motionless. Unable to turn around, Chandler leered at them. He saw the pain he had caused, and it made him nauseous. He wanted to end it so badly, but he couldn't. Looking at their faces filled with suffering, he begged for their forgiveness. It meant nothing in his mind, as he needed to vocalize his thoughts. Chandler closed his eyes, and built up the willpower that he needed- that _**they **_needed- and his lips parted. The only thing that came out was air.

The doors had opened. Looking back up, they had vanished in the wind. Ross and Monica, gone, instantly. Chandler bit his tongue in hopes that he would awaken from this nightmare. It would not be so. He clenched and stormed out of the elevator, skimming the wall for a sign toward her. Right, into the recovery wing. There was no one in the halls now, which expedited his search. For once in his life, Chandler was not running from something. This time, he was running towards something- Monica. He ran headlong into the fire, the bulls, and the firing squad. Sure, he would probably never make it out, but he had to try. For him, for her, for Ross, and for Rachel, Joey, and Phoebe too. Chandler stopped at the dead end that cradled Monica's room, screeching to a dead halt. The green number 27 attacked him, branding itself into his psyche. Ignoring the gnawing sensation, Chandler pushed the door open without even checking if she was awake or not. She was awake, and she was not alone. Ross was holding Monica's beautiful hand, and her head tilted to the door, where she saw a very grimy and exhausted Chandler. She didn't speak; Ross followed her gaze instead. Unlike the empty expression on her face, however, his was that of volcanic ferocity. His glare caught Chandler in his sights, like a sniper marking his kill. With a low and a malicious world-ending voice, Ross boomed over to Chandler.

"You did this to _**my **_sister."

It was not a question; it was a declaration of war.

Chandler couldn't find words. He was frozen in the doorway, completely out of fear. When he believed he couldn't become any more frightened, Ross stood up from his wheelchair, like he had never been injured. It was so forceful that the chair fell over, crashing into the floor like a meteor into the earth. Ross's fists clenched as he stepped forward toward Chandler, steady as a rock. Chandler took one last look at Monica, who held her hand out as if she were asking for help. As much as he wanted to, he could not. Ross's towering form now blocked his path. He was certain of what was coming next. As he prayed toward various deities, Ross lunged forward and slammed his fist into Chandler's stomach, growling like an animal. There was no attempt to defend himself. Chandler accepted his fate, and fell to the ground in agony. As he blacked out, his eyes caught the glistening sapphires that dominated his very soul for so many years.

In the blackness that surrounded him, Chandler felt a sharp pain in his side. It stung horribly, and he could hear the crunching of his ribs. Another gust of pain, and his bones shattered into smithereens. However, he managed to open his eyes. Light. Not the warm, soothing light that he wanted it to be, but the strong and irritating buzz of the fluorescent bulbs overhead. He simply laid there, losing the willpower and strength he had gained only a few minutes earlier. The light eclipsed the silhouette that stood over Chandler's limp body. Again, the figure kicked him hard. Chandler couldn't even brace the impact, not that he would. He shut his eyes to help block out the pain, but it was hopeless. All he could do was weather the blows against whom he presumed was Ross. After several minutes of withering from the beating, Chandler slowly opened his eyes again. His vision was blurry and it took a while for him to focus. _Ross_. His worst nightmares had come true. Despite knowing that he deserved every minute of it, Chandler had doubted whether Ross would really beat him like this. But here he was, on the ground, defeated. He couldn't speak earlier, and he couldn't speak now. The words he had so desperately wished to utter were kept in his throat. It was a terrible taste, not unlike the organic rainforest wax he had eaten on that terrible night.

_I'm sorry._

If only they could hear him.

The pain he had caused left a scar that ran right across the face of his spirit. The light from the nefarious heavens above grew brighter with each passing second, and Chandler could no longer breathe. Ross's bloodied hits grew harder and harder, until they nearly broke Chandler in half. It became unbearable, and soon Chandler screamed in harrowing dolor. His tears could not be contained any longer; they flung about with each torturous kick. The nipping embrace of death made it's way around Chandler's fragmented soul, and as his eyes closed for the last time, the burning lights above lifted Chandler into Nirvana. He would be an angel soon.

The voice that greeted him at the gates was not that of beauty nor beast.

"Sir?"

The voice mumbled once more, and the harsh radiance pierced his eyelids.

"Sir? You can't sleep here, sir."

Chandler roared under his breath. It was a dream. A stupid, pointless dream that sought to piss him off. It succeeded. Instead of bringing his animosity out further, however, he laughed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Chandler laughed at his own misery, and it felt so good. Better than sex with Janice, who, unfortunately, was the best he'd ever had. Even when the officer violently shook him and pulled him up, the laughter drowned out any feeling whatsoever. The breathalyzer test was rendered essentially impossible by his wide and growing grin. So, Chandler decided it was best to cooperate for a few seconds to prove that he wasn't drunk or crazy, just a bit sad.

It wasn't until Chandler strolled across the street did he notice that there was a vacant bench, which was much safer to sleep in. He smiled at this notion, praising his foolishness once more. Only he was capable of doing that, and he was damn proud of it. He sat on the cold wood, and leaned back to bask in his glory over absolutely nothing. Chandler leered at the various shrubbery around him. What a life; grow, die. The cycle repeats. Nothing to worry about in a world where the only thing you feel is hot and wet_. _He chuckled at his prey known as the English language; it never ceased to amaze him.

The clickity-clack of high heeled shoes and the flowery aroma of perfume pulled him from his thinking.

"Chandler? What are you doing out here?" Rachel's eyes widened as she bent down to get in Chandler's face, who was giving the trademark thousand yard stare. She placed her purse on the bench next to him, and began gussying up.

Chandler sighed in a troubled repose."Just, y'know, hanging out. What about you?" He looked up to her usual shining face, something that she could pull of flawlessly, in even these dark times.

Rachel flipped her hair behind her ears and flung her scarf around her neck."I thought I'd stop by and see Ross before I go to work."

Chandler replied in the most placid way possible. "Cool." He frowned warily, as to not alert Rachel of his distress.

She picked a piece of gravel off of his cheek, before skimming him from top to bottom. "Why do you look so... dirty?"

"I kinda slept out here. Didn't feel like heading home." Chandler wiped the dirt from his shoulder, now aware that he was less-than presentable.

"Honey... Why?" Rachel moved her purse and sat down next to him, putting her hand on his arm, concerned for her friend. Usually, he was upbeat. Since the accident, he's been aloof. But now, he was trying to shield himself. He was hiding something, and Rachel would not be hard-pressed to find out.

Chandler groaned, rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake. Facing her, his tone dropped to grave levels. "You have to promise not to tell Ross."

Rachel took his hand in hers, insecure of whether she could handle what was about to come. "Okay, I promise. Tell me."

Chandler inhaled with all of his strength, and spoke the words that still chilled him to his very core. "I have feelings for Monica." His voice staccatoed through the proclamation. It still hurt to think about it.

"That's not-" Rachel was cut off from her attempt at easing the weight on him.

"Let me finish."

Chandler put his hand up to disarm her. He could already feel the tears welling up inside of him. He knew that he had to finish telling his side of the story as fast as possible, otherwise he would have to suffer her look of disappointment; something he had seen and felt for much too long.

"Yesterday, she told me that she had feelings for me too."

Rachel was stunned. Monica had never mentioned this. In fact, she told Rachel that after Richard, Monica wouldn't chase love again. However, this was not love; it was infatuation at best. Still, the news had hit her like a ton of bricks. Chandler? It was pretty hard to imagine. Shocked but unwavering, Rachel quietly affirmed to comply with his earlier wish.

"Uh huh..."

Chandler fondled with his words and attempted to regain his emotional footing. "She asked me if I felt the same way," He had failed again. His voice fractured as if he was hitting puberty for a second time. "And I said no." Chandler buried his face in his hands, trying to wipe the pieces of his heart away.

"What? Why? Honey if you feel-" Rachel was interrupted yet again.

Chandler continued, oblivious to Rachel trying to reason with him. "She also said that she wasn't sure if her feelings were real, or if they were just because of all that's happened." His tone became nothing more than desperate gloom.

Rachel intently recalled that sentence over and over again. It began to make more sense, little-by-little. Her suspicions about the current circumstances becoming large factors in this situation were proven true; at least by Chandler, anyway. But she now knew that she would need Monica's confidential version. It's a shame she had to wait for more answers.

"O-Okay..."

"I didn't want to hurt her anymore," Chandler had to pause. It had become apparent that this was taking quite an emotional toll on him. It was hard enough to feel this way, let alone share it with someone else. "She was so sad over what happened with Ross, and I couldn't do it to her. B-But then..." He shut his eyes again. Despite not having any effect in his nightmare, it helped a bit in guarding his sanity.

Rachel continued for him, coming to a villainous epiphany. "She hurt herself..." She looked down at the cold pavement, wondering if this is was actually happening. It couldn't be. Monica hurt herself because of Chandler? That was not like her at all. Even in a time like this, she stood stronger than anyone. There had to be more to it.

After several minutes of silent brooding, Chandler stood up violently, which terrified Rachel. She had never seen him so brazen, yet here he was, unpredictable, just like everything else. He tossed his hands up into the air, screaming.

"I-It's all my fault, all of this!"

Rachel's jaw dropped. "What? No! No! None of this is your fault!" She hollered in return.

"Yes it **_is_**! I-I-" Chandler stuttered as he switched between placing his hands on his hips or crossing his arms.

"You what, honey?" Rachel stood up with him and put her hands on his rough and dense cheeks. This was not the Chandler she knew; and she was scared. Not for herself, but for Chandler. He was slipping away, and she would not have it.

He pulled her hands off of him and threw them to her sides. Rachel's suit ruffled from the force. "I-I could've stopped him! I could've stopped Ross from sleeping with Chloe, and none of this would have happened!" Chandler turned away from her, disgusted with himself.

"Chandler..." Rachel's attempts to console him were met with despair.

"It's all my fault, Rach..." His shoulder's shrugged repeatedly, and his breathing turned into sobbing. Tears stained the pavement next to his feet. It was official; Chandler was actually crying. It was physically painful to watch. Chandler was the last person Rachel had ever expected to cry. He always made it through with humor, but now he was just as vulnerable as anyone. This caused a bad domino effect. Rachel began choking up, as she placed her hands on her chest, pushing the emotions down. She walked over to Chandler and threw her arms around him, without worry that the dirt from his clothing would get on her's.

For several minutes she was embroiled in grief, but finally Rachel stepped back and shouted at him, shaking her head. "No, no Chandler it isn't your fault. You didn't know..."

Chandler faced her again, this time with glistening eyes full of sorrow. "Yeah? Well, what about Monica? Huh? I made her do **_that_**!" Jerking his hand around in a fashion only he could, Chandler exhaled. He didn't have the energy to yell much longer.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Her shirt was now moist from the tears. "Chandler, stop. You don't _know_ that."

Chandler laughed sarcastically, with a bit of mania sprinkled without. "Oh, really? I lied about my own feelings for no good reason! And look where she is now!" His laughter turned into more yelling. The anger in his tone was evident. He didn't want to take this out on Rachel, but unfortunately, she was the only one to hear him. She was the only one who could understand.

Stepping forward, Rachel placed her head into his chest. It wasn't supposed to be this hard, for any of them. Rachel whispered, and the beauty that came with her hushed words only pushed him further away.  
>"Stop, Chandler, please..."<p>

Chandler smiled a fake smile. He looked toward Rachel once more, and she could see the sparkle in his eye that contrasted with the morbidity of his words.

"I don't deserve to live."

Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Chandler too? This was unacceptable. She would never allow it. She would not lose another one. Her cries for help were not heard in her mind. Chandler was on the other side of the spectrum.

Rachel impulsively spoke from her heart, even if it destroyed them all. "Don't you **_dare_ **say that." The words were thunder, booming from the heavens, enough to shake him in his loafers.

Using all of his remaining strength, he shouted back at Rachel. "I've forsaken them. They are in **_there_ **because of **_me_**!" He resumed his crying, unable to turn away this time. Rachel just wrapped her arms around him again.

All she could do was hold him tight. Words were useless. With one last breath, Chandler murmured in the darkness that surrounded them.

"I've failed them. All of them..."


	17. Chapter 17: Heart of Solid Gold

The trail had become cold, much like the air outside. An hour of searching every nook and cranny of this damned hospital, and Joey still couldn't find him. Chandler was just too fast. Adding in the fact that his emotions were also running wild, he could've been halfway to Canada by now. New York was huge in its own accord, and running around the city at midnight wasn't safe; Ross proved that. This didn't flinch Joey at all, however; he needed to find Chandler, and quickly. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to his best friend.

To recall those memories they shared together, to think that not one of them had Chandler feeling as bad as he did now, it hurt Joey. The countless amount of times he had broken up with Janice, the time she had **_cheated_ **on him, and the time that Susie chick left him in her panties on that double date, all of them were mere disappointments compared to this.

Only twenty minutes earlier, Rachel had walked into his apartment, skin whiter than snow. Joey stood up to see what was going on, but was met with the cry to end all cries. She forcefully pulled herself into him, in an attempt to quell the screaming she so desperately needed to do, but couldn't. She tried to speak after that, but her sobbing had made anything she could possibly say effectively incoherent. As he took her into his arms, and watched as the gurney carried Monica away. He couldn't cry; Rachel was doing more than enough for the both of them.

Joey fretted entering Ross's room after the incident; and with good reason. He knew something like this would happen with Chandler, and he didn't have much time to prepare. A slight debate outside settled that Rachel would tell Ross, and Joey would tell Chandler. He didn't even finish, however, as Chandler bolted out the door. Joey could see the panic in his eyes, and it was terrifying. Joey's heart skipped at that moment. Chandler had changed, for worse. After nodding at Rachel and Phoebe, he left to give chase. Joey caught a glimpse of his best friend scrambling through the halls like a professional football player, and it was surreal. Something in him snapped, and it would not repair itself anytime soon. Deciding to take the easy road out, Joey headed down to the first floor. He sped towards the front desk, already very tired, and took extremely short breaths as he spoke.

"Yeah, uh, did you see a guy run through here?" He bent down, putting his hands to his knees to ease his aching muscles.

The petite receptionist pointed toward the sliding doors leading outside, which caused Joey to whine loudly. Putting his hand to his forehead, Joey whittled down his anxiety and paced out of the hospital.

It was pitch-black, and his body was near collapse. Joey could see his own breath in the frigid air, and his hands began shaking almost instantly. It wasn't supposed to be this cold. Hell could've frozen over and it wouldn't compare to this night. He shook it off, however, as there were much more important things to worry about. Bracing himself, Joey beheld the ground in front of him, of which he could only see a few feet. There was one logical place Chandler could be, but millions of places his emotions could be, dragging his limp and broken husk of a man with them. So, unwittingly, Joey stalked his way back to the apartment, unaware that Chandler was only a head turn away. His mind was emptier than usual as he crossed the streets, each one looking exactly the same as the last. The thoughts he did have were interspersed with the suffering of him and his friends. To see them all break down like that, it was destructively heartbreaking. Granted, he cried as well, for both Ross andMonica, but he felt that he wasn't as sad as everyone else; it killed him. To think that he didn't care as much as the rest of them, to think that he didn't feel what the others felt, the very thought ripped his heart and stomped it on the curb. Shaking his head painfully, Joey did his best to null the pent-up remorse.

Before he had realized it, Joey was outside of his building.

He trudged up the steps to his apartment like a slave on the pyramids. Joey hadn't felt so alone before, so unsure of the future, and so lost in his feelings. Reaching the door to apartment 19, Joey pulled his key out. His hands were shaking yet again. Several unsuccessful attempts at unlocking the door later, he pushed open the door to the dark apartment. It felt so corrupt, like some sort of evil presence was inside. If only Phoebe was there to analyze this. It was like a cheesy horror film, and Joey was about to die from the foosball table exploding or something strange like that. Nothing happened, thankfully. Joey flipped the light switch and life had returned to the room in the form of floating dust and that native but foul smell- of which neither Chandler nor Joey knew what- filled his nostrils, bringing that feeling of home back again. Warmth had returned, and Joey felt much better.

Grabbing a beer out of the empty fridge, Joey staggered over to his barcalounger. The caress of the black leather felt nicer than the touch of any woman, and the smell of the bubbling beverage that he cracked open put him in a bath of Guinness. Once he brought the bottle to his lips, he shot up out of the recliner. In his reverie, he had completely forgotten as to why he was even here.

"Chandler?" Joey's voice broke as he yelled in a somewhat soft tone.

Hearing no response, he peeked into every room, every spot, and every hiding place. Nothing. Chandler was never here, and Joey didn't have the energy to hunt through the city. He cursed as he sat back into his recliner, taking a swig from the beer, wishing it would turn into whiskey. He picked up the remote, and switched on the TV to break the eerie calm.

_Days of Our Lives. _

There he stood as Dr. Drake Ramoray, ready to reattach someone's spinal cord or use a laser to treat a brain tumor. Ross had always told him that those things weren't possible yet with modern medicine, but he didn't listen. He didn't even care; it was just a TV show. Since the accident, however, Joey wished he could do all of those things. To ease the pain even a little would satisfy him. That white coat and those big and fancy words would actually make him feel like he was making a difference. If only he had listened to Ross more. He was the smartest guy in the world to Joey. Those little false anecdotes of which only Ross thought were funny, were now memories. Painful memories. So Joey gazed tearfully into the TV, watching Drake saving people's lives and bringing them back from the dead. Even if it was fake and scripted, he still felt like he was doing something good. He was a hero to his patients. How much he wanted to be a hero to his friends. To save them all, to protect them, it felt like it was his duty. He would have gladly taken that bullet for Ross. Sure, he was an actor _**and **_a womanizer, which gave plenty of people reason not to trust him, but he loved his friends more than any of the thousands of women he had slept with.

It had hit Joey so hard even his sisters could feel it.

He had never been in love.

He had never held a picture frame of an ex-girlfriend and cried, or spent the night with someone that didn't end in sex. He had never walked on the beach hand-in-hand with a beautiful woman and didn't think about how good she'd be in bed. He had never thought once of marrying someone and spending his mortal life with her. The thought of what he could be possibly missing out on almost asphyxiated him. Those couples who seemed so happy: Ross and Rachel, Monica and Richard, maybe the future Chandler and Monica, etc. Why couldn't he have that? Was there something wrong with him? There had to be. The way he treated women like objects and how nothing was ever serious felt so wrong now. Joey felt like such a waste of space. Everyone was slowly moving on from everything that had happened, but here he was, a failing actor, struggling to pay the bills, and dreadfully lonely. No one-night stand would fix that.

A knock on the door pulled him from his muse.

He tried to sound gaily. "It's open." But his tone was turned to that of heartbreak. Joey turned the barcalounger around to face whomever was at the door. He took one last drink, and set the empty beer bottle on the ground.

The door opened to reveal Rachel and Phoebe, both of whom looked exhausted.

"What're you guys doing here?" Joey asked, clearing his throat.

"Ross _**insisted**_ that we go home early." Rachel replied, mockingly.

Joey nodded, preoccupied in his thoughts.

"I'm guessing you couldn't find Chandler? Phoebe crossed her arms and walked over to the recliner, resting against the arm.

Joey again nodded, this time in refusal.

He tried his best not to show weakness, but a single rebellious tear made it's way down his cheek to his chin. Unable to wipe it away without making it obvious that he was crying, Joey withstood the tingling sensation that tortured him. It was futile, however, as Phoebe lifted up his chin and looked into his opaque pupils. They were so foggy that she could see herself in them. Turning away and frowning, Rachel came over to her, but as she reached for a hug Phoebe immediately put her arms around Joey instead. Rachel soon followed, knowing that she was needed in their clasp of wooden friendship.

The wood that would never break.


	18. Chapter 18: Best Friends

"She's lost quite a lot of blood, Mr. Geller. She's also heavily sedated. It'll be a while before she wakes up. I'm sorry." The doctor looked at Ross and gave him a sympathetic frown, the one that all doctors gave in an attempt to 'connect' with their patients.

"Yeah, okay, thanks." Ross replied, bitterly. He became annoyed at everything recently. The walls, the floors, the food, that damned bed, the staff, all of it. It pissed him off that he was still in the hospital. He wanted to go back to work, he wanted to go back to the apartments, he wanted to taste Monica's signature breakfast. But he couldn't.

The soothing touch of his lover's hand gently massaging his shoulder lulled him to peace. Her scent of vanilla and strawberry perfume barraged him with a salvo of passion, and he could not get enough. Ross put his hand on hers, and smiled a weak smile. Her beaming face gave his life light every time he had the privilege to glance at it. Each kiss that Rachel gave him was escorted by Cupid's dust, which carried him into heaven.

_Just like it used to._

She had come in with Chandler a couple minutes earlier, and when they went up to his room, his nurse told them that he had been visiting Monica. Chandler decided to wait in Ross's room, as he couldn't lie in the bed he had made just yet. Rachel found Ross weeping over his sister's broken shell of a body, something she took very personally. It was nearly impossible to watch him cry, as every teardrop that fell from his chestnut eyes was soon followed by several of hers. Each wheezing breath he took emulated inside her heart, making it pound even faster. Rachel gripped the door handle, ready to stop the tears. She took deep breaths, and pushed.

Once he felt the blitz of air scrape his rough skin, Ross craned his neck to see who was at the door. His heart stopped, just for a moment. His angel in the gray suit had arrived, bringing with her a golden chariot of love. His sorrow was now in a losing battle, and her first step toward him crushed it altogether. Euphoria and bliss had overwhelmed him, and he even managed to stand up, if only for a brief second. As Rachel rushed over to him, time had stopped. Their own little world had been forged in that slice of eternity, and shut the true and undesirable one out with unbreakable barriers of passion. Her touch on his cheek caused the greatest surge of electricity through his body, and it was nothing less of exhilarating. Every fiber of his being was used on not fainting when their lips touched. It was absolutely beautiful; Da Vinci himself could not have painted this perfect picture. Harmony knew no bounds in an ocean of endless time and space. It was strange, however; every moment with her was like this, but each time there was something different, something better. But, it was better not to question these things, despite the desperate need to figure out why love can make humanity its puppet so easily. No, all Ross wanted was her touch, her kiss, her voice, everything that made him remember how much he loved her.

So, after hearing the doctor explain how dire Monica's wound really was, he longed for Rachel to sweep him away; something she could do expertly. So, she wheeled him toward the door, knowing that if they stayed any longer, Ross's grief would only grow. As they reached the doorway, they both looked back at Monica, knowing that someone would need be her hero. Both Ross and Rachel already had an idea of whom thatwould be.

Rolling through the halls, Ross felt uncomfortable, despite Rachel being right behind him. He couldn't believe that she was pushing him around, exerting energy for _him_. She shouldn't have to lift any of her perfect fingers. She was a queen, and deserved to be treated like one. Ross couldn't afford that many servants, however. Therefore, he shall be a one-man army of butlers, chefs and jesters. But none of that was possible while he sat in this chair. She would keep insisting on doing things for him, and as much as he wanted to give his piece, he kept it in. Tough, but doable.

At least he had Rachel back. He had to be thankful for that.

Once they reached his room, Ross tried to open the door, but Rachel had left him just out of reach of the handle. She opened it for him, and flashed her peerless smile, overjoyed that he would open the door for her, even in his condition. He wheeled himself into his room with Rachel in tow, and noticed Chandler toying with the various machines and equipment.

Ross's voice, albeit soft, was almost back to normal, aside from it cracking like that of a boy hitting puberty.

"Chandler, you break it, you buy it."

Chandler whipped around, apparently unaware that they had returned. Ross now had a smirk on his face, signifying that he was joking. This caused Chandler to smile back, which brought laughter from the both of them. Rachel noted how both of their faces lit up as they shared a limited exchange of humor; something that had been missing from their lives since that night.

Both of them went over to Chandler, where Ross gave him a typical cool-guy handshake, and Rachel tapped his side ever-so-discreetly, motioning him to follow her. They walked over to her purse, which Chandler thought to believe Rachel was pretending to dig through. To his surprise, she pulled out a folded sticky note and handed it to him.

Opening it, the hastily scribbled words popped out to Chandler:

_Talk to him._

"Who's _him_?" Chandler whispered, acting like he had no idea what she meant; it failed, of course.

"Gunther. Who do you think?" Rachel retorted, annoyed.

Chandler cursed quietly, and placed his hand on the wall for support. He really didn't want to do this, but Rachel had her way of getting what she wanted, whether it was for her or someone else. That, and the fact that his conscience was slowly outweighing his fear. It really was the right thing to do, despite it feeling so wrong. As he prepped himself for an inevitable ass-kicking by a half-crippled paleontologist, a loud rattling came from behind, startling them both. Turning around, a horrifying sight presented itself. Ross, arms shaking riotously, was lifting himself out of the wheelchair. He bit his tongue, holding in his screams of pain for the sake of his independence, which was obviously foolish. But it was Ross. Good, old, prideful Ross. The chair was so light and wobbly, it was a mistake to even try something so brazen. Yet, there was a need for him to prove to himself that he wasn't worthless; that he wasn't less than a man. He had to show that he was perfectly capable of doing this by himself. His fa_ç_ade cracked, however, as Rachel and Chandler rushed over to his aid.

"Honey, stop!" Rachel screamed, tightly grabbing his arm along with Chandler. They both pushed on him to stop, but Ross was not fazed.

"Shut up! I can **_do_ **this!" Ross lashed back at her, struggling.

He knew he actually couldn't, but he thought that if maybe he believed hard enough, like in a children's storybook, it would happen. Sadly, it didn't. After getting up a foot from the chair, his arms gave out and he fell back. It was all for nothing. He had depleted all of his strength, and now he needed someone to help him. With a broken spirit, Ross reached over to call a nurse. Rachel and Chandler placed their hands on his shoulders, and looked at each other, curious as to why he would try something so dangerous.

It took several minutes for a strongman orderly to come, who lifted Ross into his bed. Rachel noticed the pain in his expression, but passed it off as purely physical. Once the nurse left, Rachel walked over to him, putting his face into her hands and giving him a tender kiss. She decided not to question his actions; but to respect them, and to only help when he needed it.

She kissed him again, whispering amorously. "Okay, honey, I have to go to work now."

Ross threw his arms out in a farce protest. "Aw, why?"

"Because Joanna will eat me alive if I'm late again." It was true, after all.

"Alright." Ross replied, circling his sheets with his fingers, looking like a child who was just denied a toy.

"I'll be back at the end of the day, though." Rachel picked up his drooping chin, and rubbed his nose against hers.

He smiled at his princess, willing to rip the cords on the wall off for her. "If you say so. I'll miss you."

She smiled back, and gave him a final kiss. "I'll miss you too. Bye Chandler!" She waved goodbye to both of them, and walked out of the room.

As she was closing the door behind her, Rachel gave a menacing wink to Chandler, of whom had a look of confusion plastered on his face. This turned into terror as the click of metal emanated throughout the room.

Rachel _was _going to work, but first she had to make a little stop. Pulling her purse around and unzipping it, she took out a small black marker.

Chandler awkwardly strolled over to Ross, setting a chair next to him, deciding that today was a good day to die.

Ross took a sip of his coffee, and picked up the newspaper that was left for him. Glancing over to Chandler, who looked very distraught, he eyed him from top to bottom. He had so much dirt and grime all over him, like he slept in a gutter. While he went back to reading, he broke the ice.

"So... what's up?"

Chandler sighed, he chose to face death with a poker face. "We need to talk."

Ross glimpsed at him once more, and read the paper while listening. "Okay. Shoot."

Exhaling even deeper, Chandler put his hands together, caging his fear and tossing the key away.

"It's about Monica."

Ross looked up, and finally turned his head to face Chandler directly. He spoke slower this time. "Alright?"

Chandler sighed, reflecting on their conversation yesterday. Monica's glistening sapphire eyes, fogged with tears, looking directly at him as she awaited an answer. The way she just ran out when he said no, and the way he felt as he was with Ross for the entire day, watching him draw, but not speaking a word of what transpired.

"I... like her. A lot."

His eyes widened. "My sister?"

Chandler took a slight defensive stance. "Yeah. Look, man, I'm sorry."

Ross shrugged, taking the tip of the iceberg well. "Nothing to be sorry about. You can't control your feelings-"

Chandler interrupted. "There's more."

Ross nodded, very concerned. "Okay, go on."

"She told me that she had feelings for me too."

Chandler bit his lip, wondering if the punches were coming now or when he told him the really bad news. That was the last thing on Ross's mind, however. It was hard to believe that Monica would like Chandler. He'd always thought that she'd go for Joey first. Surprised, he muttered.

"Whoa. Really?"

"...Yeah."

"That's... wow." Ross was obviously still in shock, which didn't help Chandler's situation one bit.

"I know. That's not the worst part, though." Chandler braced himself.

"Okay, so what **_is _**the worst part?" Ross had become more than concerned; he was worried.

"...It's coming up."

Ross nodded, listening intently.

Chandler began hyperventilating. "She said she wasn't sure if her feelings were real," His body tensed and began making hand gestures, signifying that he was trying very hard to act normal. "and she asked if I felt the same way..."

"...Okay?" Ross took hard notice of his friend's strange behavior, gradually becoming fearful.

"I-I couldn't hurt her, man. I couldn't. I didn't want to ruin our friendship!" Out of absolutely nowhere, Chandler began yelling at the top of his lungs while sitting as far back into his chair as possible. He had gone mad, or confused, or was awash with guilt and fear. Either way, Ross was definitely scared now.

"Chandler, calm down. Breathe. Come on." Ross gently put his hand up to disarm Chandler to no avail.

"I-I-I said no." He stuttered as the dreaded words escaped his mouth.

Ross placed his hand on Chandler's shoulder, but it was knocked away instantly.

"And then..." He shut his eyes, letting the demons take over.

"And then?" But it was only Ross who took over, helping Chandler continue what he was saying.

Chandler's jaw shook, but he couldn't speak anymore. He simply pointed to the north wall of the room, his arm fluttering like a hummingbird. Ross didn't understand at first, but it facilely came to him. He wasn't pointing towards the north end of the room; he was pointing towards the north end of the recovery ward.

Monica.

With that, his mouth was agape.

Seeing this, Chandler hyperventilated further, and scooted back as fast as he could, putting his hands in front of his face. His entire life flashed before his closed eyes. A multitude of voices filled his mind, many of which were telling him that he was never going to be successful, or that he was the greatest coward of all time. Most of these were from his friends, family, other schoolmates, etc. One, however, stood out from the rest. It didn't chastise or degrade him; it cheered him on. It told him to face his fears in only two simple words.

_Stop that._

It was louder than the rest, and somewhat recognizable. It was a good break from the belittle and disgrace that haunted him throughout the years.

_Chandler, stop that._

He didn't want to comply, but he didn't have a choice. That voice made the decision for him, and he slowly lowered his hands, exposing himself.

Ross couldn't believe what he had seen. Chandler's face was redder than a tomato, and he could swear he could see lines of tears cascading down his cheeks. He had never seen Chandler so weak, so vulnerable. It was unbelievable. But now wasn't the time to reminisce; it was time to help.

Collected, Ross spoke in a warm tone. "Dude, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." He emphasized each word for him.

_Yes, you are. I put your sister in the hospital!_

He continued, frightened. "Chandler, you're scaring me. Please, stop."

"I-I'm so sorry!" Chandler blurted, attempting to stop the beating that was never going to come. Ross painfully reached over to put his other hand on his shoulder, burdened deeply for his friend. Instead of telling him that there's nothing to be sorry about, he issued a perfect example of how strong Monica really is.

He shook Chandler. "Listen to me. Remember when Monica broke up with Richard?" His voice was now deliberate and steady.

Chandler nodded, still unsure of what to do.

"She was in a funk for a few days. But that was it." Ross's deep voice sent tremors through his shattered body,

He was right. Monica cried for about an hour each day, slowly progressing into a sniffle for a minute. It was not like this at all.

He continued. "And, she loved him. There's obviously more to it than just you rejecting her."

That was true, at least. Having been rejected by so many women in his time, Ross always knew that something so complicated like this had more than one factor; he had over analyzed this since Carol left him. There was always more to it.

Chandler blinked rapidly, aware that Ross was right. "R-Really?" He stuttered, but he had a little composure now.

Ross shook his head in disbelief that he was in denial. "Yes, Chandler!"

Chandler winced for a couple seconds, as his now open eyes gained focus.

"Look at me. I'm not mad, okay?" Ross tried to sound as convincing as possible.

Chandler swallowed thickly. It was hard to trust him- or anybody, for that matter.

"Chandler?"

But he did. Someway, somehow, it was okay now.

Chandler slowly turned his neck forward, and the room blurred and spun around him. But, when he faced Ross, he could see the pain he had in his eyes. It was physically painful for him to look at; Ross was really hurt. And this was supposed to be for _him_? Someone cared about _him_? Blasphemy. It was heartbreaking, though. Ross didn't deserve this.

Ross continued with his reasoning. "Look, man. You're my best friend. It'd be hard to convince me that you're the sole reason Monica is here."

Chandler shook his head in disbelief, and relaxed his tense body. He blinked once more, and the tears in his eyes had dissolved. Ross immediately knew what that meant, and patted his best friend on the arm, knowing that he was fine.

Chandler spoke, finally in control of his emotions. "I'm sorry, man."

Ross smiled. He had his friend back. "Nothing to be sorry about, bro. You've gotta promise me something though."

"Sure, anything."

Ross took a serious look, but Chandler saw right through it. "When Monica wakes up, you march in there and talk to her. Tell her the truth. She deserves that much."

"Got it." Chandler quickly replied. He was going to do that anyway.

There was a tense silence following their moment, but otherwise, Chandler couldn't be happier. Like many things, it was not as bad as he thought it was going to be. His innate fears hid in the deepest corners of his mind, where they belonged.

Ross awkwardly cut the tiny tension.

"So, uh, let me ask you something then."

Chandler smirked happily. "Go for it."

Ross furrowed his brow, and picked up his coffee. "You said that she wasn't sure if she _really_ felt those things, right?"

Chandler quizzically stared at him, unable to pick up on to why he would ask such a thing. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Well," Ross took a small sip, before looking back at Chandler. "Are you sure about your feelings?"

There was another pause, and Chandler looked deftly confused. He had never once thought about whether or not his feelings were genuine, or if they fell within the same category as Monica's. It was a real thinker, but he came to a conclusion.

"Honestly?"

Ross gulped down even more coffee. "Yup."

Chandler sighed with an impartial breath. "I guess not."

Ross nodded in agreement, knowing he was correct. "Thought so. Wanna talk about it?"

Chandler flipped his hands out in front of him, deciding that it was for the best. "I suppose. It's just weird, y'know?"

"How so?"

He breathed in, ready to pour his heart out. "I mean, I see the way you look at Rachel, and I see the way she looks at you, and I can't help but wonder how great that must feel. The way you guys act around each other, and how you like," He shook his hand in indecision. "Y'know, _**love** _each other." Chandler shrugged.

Ross nodded, listening intently.

Chandler chuckled, hearing himself at that moment."I don't know. Maybe I'm just a hopeless romantic."

Ross looked at him, with a boyish 'stop beating yourself up' face. "You're not _hopeless_. Monica might be 'the one'."

Chandler raised his eyebrows, alarmed at how he would just let him be with his sister. "And you'd be okay with that?"

Ross scoffed at his question. "You've been my best friend for almost ten years now. I couldn't ask for a better person for her to be with."

He patted Ross on his good shoulder, smiling like a clown. "Thanks, man."

Ross examined Chandler one last time. "Now, might I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

Ross turned serious once more, but Chandler again knew it was only a joke. Ross pointed at him, starting from his head down to his shoes, and back to his middle."Go home. Clean yourself up. You look like burnt crap."

"No problem, amigo."

They gave each other a friendly salute, and Chandler left the room, head held high.


	19. Chapter 19: All for Many

The air bit her skin, and the scarf wrapped around her neck slowly choked the life out of her.

Life was returning to normal, a bit too fast.

Rachel stepped through the front doors of Bloomingdale's, the cold disappearing like Houdini. Tossing and turning during the night didn't take an effect until now. She could have had a drinking binge and last night would not have been any less traumatizing. Every second her existence from this point on would be forgetting the events of this past week. Strength was needed more than ever. Although she would have trouble, she had her friends. She had Ross. She could do this.

The scent of fresh flowers, perfume, and varnished wood were intoxicating- almost too much so. The dozens of shoppers were migrating to the spring clothing line, which opened a path to the elevators. Waving at her fellow employees as she passed by, Rachel stepped into the red velvet interior of the elevator. She was alone, which was never good. There was not even any music. Unwillingly, she began remembering last night: Mark _kissing _her, as if that was going to end well; Monica, screaming in pain in what Rachel could only describe as the most horrifying thing she had ever seen; and then Ross, who, even in the darkest times, still managed to be her own personal painkiller.

But the perturbation she scanned within his eyes when she told him of Monica, the shock that flowed from his mouth, jagged and cleft, told her that part of his heart had been consumed with the tainted miasma of unobtainable vengeance. He couldn't protect her from the one who did that to her; it was her, after all. He then questioned as to why Monica would do something so stupid and without consideration to her friends. The agony that was tearing him apart was passed onto Rachel, who carried the baggage wherever she went. Yet, somehow, she had managed to withstand all of that without breaking down herself. Perhaps she was strong, or that her love for both Ross and Monica pulled her through. Or, she might have been broken long ago and didn't even realize it. But here she was, ready to work, able to put those things behind her and look towards the future. Their future.

The ding of the opening doors brought her from her abstraction. Luckily, there were not that many people here this early. Stepping across the rug into her office, thoughtlessly, Rachel walked to her desk, unable to meet Sophie's welcoming gaze.

"Hey!" She chirped towards Rachel, who sat down across from her, in another dimension.

"Oh, uh, hey." Rachel half-snapped back to reality, setting her bag down onto her desk and flipping her laptop open. She began typing, her eyes glued to the screen. Sophie pursed her lips, trying to create small talk with her distracted co-worker.

"…What's up?"

Rachel blinked rapidly. "Um, nothing." Although this was a blatant lie, she had a good poker face. Rachel just wanted to shut out the world and finish up her day so she could go see Ross. Unfortunately, her mind nagged at her to talk to somebody- _anybody__- _about what had happened.

Without qualm, she faced Sophie, and blurted out. "Okay, I have to tell you something. It stays between us though, got it?" She was going to reveal one of her dark secrets, anyway. The one that she thought Sophie could actually help her with.

Sophie nodded back, surprised at the sudden change of mood. "Uh, okay. Of course."

"Last night," Rachel gulped, closed her eyes and painfully whispered. "Mark _kissed_ me." Her voice became icy and her face twitched as she said those words; the moment still appalled her. At first, she was shocked. It may have been a dream, and she may have been _seeing_ Mark, but kissing Ross. But it was not so. It was very true, and very wrong.

Sophie's jaw dropped, and she looked at Rachel in complete awe. "What? Really?"

She nodded in response, still extremely uneasy about the entire situation.

Sophie slammed the table, shaking her head in disgust. "What a _**sleazeball**_!"

Rachel's tone turned from fear to repugnance. "I know. I couldn't believe it. I mean, why the hell would he do something like that?" The last time she had talked to Mark before last night was when her and Ross were on a break; he was sweet and someone to talk to, so did he take that as a reason to make a move on her? As far as he knew, her and Ross were broken up. But that didn't make it right.

Sophie sighed, and frowned at Rachel. "I guess... there's no harm in telling you now."

Rachel looked back at her in cautious surprise. "Wha-? Tell me what?"

"Mark has like this _**major** _crush on you." Sophie looked down at her desk, unsure of whether it was a good idea to reveal that to Rachel. Her first day at work, Mark had called her later that night to tell her to he was going to miss that office- and Rachel, especially. He told her that he had feelings for Rachel, but hated how he had to leave, unable to act on them.

"...That doesn't make it right." Rachel crossed her arms and glared at Sophie, unable to believe that _that_ was a verifiable excuse to kiss her out of nowhere.

"Of course. But I just thought you should know." Sophie played with her pen, hoping not to anger Rachel any further.

She simply exhaled, wanting to forget it all. "Thank-" She was cut off.

"Get back to work!" Joanna sped by them both into her office, cutting their chatter like steel upon flesh. Nothing forced Rachel to forget things more than Joanna's thunderous voice. Her heels clacked their way past them both, sewing their mouths shut.

As Rachel filled out her orders, she did not realize that three hours had passed since she had came in. Her complete focus on her work and nothing else made time fly, and apart from the occasional request from Joanna to fetch something, she didn't do much else besides mindlessly pound the keys on her laptop. However, her concentration was fragmented when the phone rang.

Without tone, Rachel picked up the phone and hastily answered. "Joanna's office."

A familiar voice brought her back to life. "Rach?"

She smiled, and replied. "Chandler? What's up?"

He took a long breath, of which expelled his body of 'negative energy' as Phoebe would say. "I just wanted to, uh, say thanks."

Chandler sat in his own office, smiling at how great he felt after talking to Ross. He went home and took a long, hot shower and put on clean clothes, deciding to go to work for real this time. Since Joey wasn't home when Chandler had returned, he had figured that he went to visit Ross and Monica, and therefore he himself was not needed.

Rachel stuck the phone to her shoulder while she continued working. "For?"

Chandler giddily laughed, and modestly replied to her. "Y'know... _Ross_..."

Figuring that their talk went well, Rachel smiled to herself and warmly replied. "Oh, um, your welcome Chandler."

There was a long pause. Chandler was busy talking to his supervisor, Mr. Douglas, who had waltzed in, demanding that the WENUS was not up to standard, and that it was somehow his fault. Once he managed to sway him out of the room, he returned to the phone.

"Sorry Rach. My boss apparently hates the _WENUS_." He laughed at the word he had become so accustomed to using for over 4 years now. It was still so funny to him.

"Uhh, okay, sweetie. Listen, I gotta go, I'll see you soon, alright?" She had just realized that every word she typed on her computer while talking to Chandler was Ross. It was like she was in high school, writing her boyfriend's name all over her notebooks.

"Yeah. Okay." He sounded a little sad, but he knew they both had work to do.

"Bye Chandler." She smiled one last time.

"Bye. And thanks again."

Rachel grinned, knowing that she had helped one person, at least. Chandler was, after her, closest with Ross, and second closest to Monica after Phoebe. Rachel knew that he didn't exactly have the ideal childhood, and thought that maybe these past days would bring back those bad memories. She wasn't exactly sure if they did or not, but he seemed much better than when she found him this morning.

_One down, four to go._

"**_Pheebs_**!" Joey shouted, trying to get Phoebe's attention. The smell and warmth of coffee and pastries was a good contrast to the briskness outside. Central Perk proved to be a great heater when the winter snow blanketed the streets.

Phoebe was pulled from her daydreaming, disoriented. "Huh? Oh? What?"

Joey motioned towards the table beside her. "Could you pass me a cruller?"

"Oh, yeah. Okay." Regaining focus, Phoebe picked up the doughnut next to her and handed it to Joey, who promptly inhaled it. She resumed her deep thinking by staring at the pictures on the walls, many of which reminded her of her friends.

Mouth still half-full, Joey stared at her. "What's wrong? You've been weird all morning."

She tried to make up a quick excuse. "Yeah, um, just, y'know... thinking."

Joey swallowed, disquieted. "About?"

"Ross... Monica... the Revolutionary War..."

Phoebe began trailing off, once again being caught in an emotional whirlwind that would never relent on pushing her soul to the very limit.

Out of the six of them, Phoebe was the best at hiding her sorrow; however, the first time she saw Ross in the hospital, lying in that bed in so much pain, she could not contain herself anymore. The tears came out uncontrollably, and, for the first time since she moved in with Monica, no one could help her. It brought back the memories of her teenage years on the streets, fending off the world, and no matter how hard it was, she made it through that. This, however, was just as bad. Ten years of suffering were now condensed into almost 5 days. This was what is was like to lose someone. When her mother died, Phoebe was sad, of course, but her natural instinct from then on was to survive; she didn't have time to grieve, not like now.

A loud striking sound pulled her from her quiet mourning.

"**_Phoebe_**!" Joey was snapping his fingers right in her face.

"What, Joey? **_What_**!" Phoebe screamed back at him, which threw him into the depths of the orange couch. She had never yelled at him like that before, and it sent chills up his spine. Before realizing the austerity of what she had just done, Phoebe cursed under her breath, not being able to remember what she was thinking about. She took a long look at Joey, who was now cowering at the far end of the sofa.

"J-Joey, I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me-" Her voice was soft and loving now, but he sat up, interrupting her.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. It was a bad idea to mess with you like that." Joey scooted closer to her, putting his hand up. He knew that it was a stressful time for all of them, and it was normal to be on edge. This didn't change his demeanor, however; that was saved for what was coming up.

"It's just- I hate this."

"We all do, Pheebs." Joey pouted and placed his hand on her shoulder, which calmed her a bit.

"Why, Joey? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is that guy who did that to Ross still out there? Why did Monica do _that_ to herself?" The last question made her cringe in her slippers. It was just like her mother's suicide; but Monica had to live with this. As much as Phoebe- and eventually Monica- would want to forget, it would be impossible. Another scar on their life, which, while lessening with time, would never be permanently erased.

Joey looked deeply into her graceful green irises. "I... I don't know."

Unable to find the solution, Phoebe rubbed her eyes, but that did not stop her tears.

Without hesitation, Joey set down his pseudo-breakfast and wrapped his arms around her. It reminded him of the night before, when their roles were reversed. They had to be there for each other, through thick and thin; through Hell and back. No one loved Phoebe as much as her friends did; this was proven. She would not lose them like she lost everything else. So, she put her arms around Joey, never letting go. His delicate whisper brushed her ear, and she was safe.

"You wanna go see Ross?"

She nodded into his shoulder as he petted the back of her head. Joey was so warm and welcoming, his arms around her made all of her thoughts vanish. He was such a caring person, and no one could ask for a better friend; a better shoulder to cry on. They held onto each other, knowing that they had to be strong, like Rachel.

_Don't let go._

Yet, he had to. He pulled away, much to Phoebe's chagrin. But what came next blew her troubles away. Joey cupped her face in his hands, and, using his thumbs, stroked her cheeks, wiping the dew of woe that flawed her to the ground. He smiled, which melted her frozen heart, and took her shivering hand in his as they walked to the door of the coffeehouse.

Trembling, she uttered his name. "J-Joey."

He turned to face her. "Yeah, Pheebs?"

Smiling, her eyes red from sobbing, she whispered to him. "Thanks."

Joey nodded, and simpered back at her.

The streets were filled with people, and holding each other's hand served more than to keep them warm; it was so they would not get lost. As they turned the corner that rounded the east side of the hospital, they passed a small building. Painted red walls and blue curtains in the window, along with the darkness that coated the inside, many people paid no attention to it. The sign on the door read 'OPEN', but the door itself already had piling dust on it. Phoebe already knew what this was; a psychic.

Pulling on him tightly, Phoebe yelled across the chaos that is Manhattan. "Hey, Joey!"

He spun around to face her. "Hmm?"

Phoebe pointed at the building. "Let's stop in here for a second!"

Joey looked up at the sign above the door, and back at Phoebe, who was now giddy with anticipation. He shrugged, and followed her in as she opened the door. Many a time had they, together, went to a psychic to discuss their futures with the group. Now, it was not a luxury, but a necessity.

"Mr. Geller," Ross's doctor sighed, annoyed. "I cannot release you until we have an accurate diagnosis." He began flipping through his clipboard, looking for answers that were not there. Every injury is unique, and Ross's was at the end of the spectrum.

"Come on doc! You said it yourself! I'm not gonna die!" Ross shouted toward him, wanting to leave the hospital; if even for just a roll around the block.

The doctor sighed, trying to explain. "Yes, I know, but spinal cord injuries are nothing short of unpredictable-" But he was cut off.

"That's just it! The bullet didn't _hit_ my spine!" Ross's voice reeked of derision.

"But any damage near it-"

Their 'conversation' was cut short by a knocking at the door.

"..Come in!"

The door opened to reveal Jack and Judy, both with tears welled up inside of them. They rushed over to Ross, dropping their small bags and hugging him tightly, unaware that this caused him pain. He did not understand what was going on, having been confused since yelling at his doctor.

"My baby...!" Judy shrieked, scared for her son, like most mothers would be.

"How are you feeling, son?" Jack casually stepped forward, but kept the aura of grimness that was appropriate.

Astonished, Ross tried to grasp the situation. "Wh- Mom? Dad? When'd you get back?"

"Just this morning. We tried calling Monica, but apparently she wasn't home. How are you?"

"G-"

"Let me explain," Ross's doctor reached his hand out toward Jack, smiling. "Dr. Rosenblatt. You are Ross's parents?"

"Uh, yes." Timidly, Jack shook his hand, which was firm and steady. Judy followed suit, as the three of them faced away from Ross, who was still dazed.

"Now," The doctor began flipping through the papers on his clipboard, and went to his displayed x-rays and CT scans. He used his pen to circle areas of importance. "Your son has suffered massive trauma _here_, as this was the point of entry. Since the bullet did not directly hit the spinal cord or the heart, there was no immediately fatal damage."

Somewhat relieved, Judy muttered quietly. "Alright..."

"But," Dr. Rosenblatt sighed. Bad news was part of his job, but not his forté. "Several small shards of lead mushroomed out from the original wound. They striked his thoracic nerve endings _here._ While that is not as bad as hitting the stem itself, it can still affect his motor skills. I'm also afraid to inform you that lead is toxic."

Jack glared at him, worried. "Well? Did you get it all out?"

"Yes, we did. But, as you may know, spinal cord injuries, even small ones, never completely heal."

"Okay, um, how severe is it?" Judy crossed her arms, unsure of whether this was the worst it could be.

"Ross has slight paralysis in his legs. This is _with _lead poisoning, mind you. Once it has left his system through chelation therapy, he should be close to normal again. If he isn't, we'll have to go through physical rehabilitation.

Another long and dreadful silence. After a while of looking at the tiled floor and holding back their weeping hearts, Dr. Rosenblatt spoke once more, in a pacifying tone.

"Of course, this is subject to change."

"Jeez, doc, I'm fine. I stood up yesterday!" Ross yelled across the room, hearing every word of what they had been told.

"Perhaps, but I'm sure it was very painful." He retorted, able to read his outspoken patient like a book.

Ross scoffed, and turned his head away from him.. After a short pause, he looked at his obviously concerned parents. He had to tell them about Monica right now, so that only the sun shall rise on the darkest day. Pulling his wheelchair, he sorely slid into it, stopping his parents before they tried to help him.

"Follow me, you guys."

Jack and Judy glanced at each other, and followed Ross out of the room. He chose to wheel himself down to Monica's room, which his parents understood at the first sign of moving faster when he felt a hand on him. As they reached her room, Ross scooted over to the side, and they both opened the door.

"M-Monica!" Judy swept in, running towards her daughter at the speed of light. Jack couldn't find words to express his antipathy, he became stone in the middle of the room. His little Harmonica, helpless. Feeble. Destitute. Forsaken.

"H-How...?" Judy held Monica's hiemal face, and, while it took awhile to notice her wound, it abhorred her. She almost threw up. It was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. The titanium that was stapled into her arm felt so rough against her silky skin.

"She... She did that to herself." Ross turned his head down, unable to face his parents.

He was angry. At himself, at Monica, at Chandler, at whatever in God's name brought her to do this. This was not the Monica he grew up with, beating him up and playing restaurant with him; eating all of the cookie dough before she gave him his meal. Ross's parents were, on the other hand, were despondent beyond belief. They went through the eighteen years they spent as a family; it went much too fast. Jack and Judy hated how they did not cherish every moment together. Now, they were watching as Ross silently weeped over Monica, which broke their hearts. They were shattered. Destroyed. To make matters worse, neither of them spoke for a while; nothing could describe this anguish.

Both of their children were hurt, and they couldn't do anything to stop it.

A parent's worst nightmare.

A daughter's cry for help.


	20. Chapter 20: A Warrior's Pride

**AN: I hope you are all enjoying this still!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Friends.  
>Even though I wish I did.<strong>

* * *

><p>Why did this happen?<p>

Why did she do this?

Monica didn't know, let alone care; she wasn't supposed to be alive.

It was just an impulse. An urge. A thought that had lingered in her mind for years. Her morbid curiosity for what it would feel like outweighed her fear of consequence. She wouldn't have been much of a loss, either. A twenty-something living in New York trying to be successful? As if there weren't millions of those already. Just another person put on this earth. No purpose, no direction. She was living a life that had been lived so many times before. She was a zombie.

A cog in the machine, infinitely turning.

Fueled by the deepest darkness.

And after years of rust, Monica finally broke, and fell into her bloodied slumber.

She remembered how warm it felt at first; it was like tripping into a bath of amaretto. Her entire body tingled, sizzling like a steak on a grill. The shock had isolated each thought she had into their own sanctuaries. Monica raised her gashed arm, the moonlight bouncing off of the sanguine elixir that rapidly made it's way toward her pallid fingertips. To her, it was fascinating. How did it gush out so fast? How much would come out? Why did it feel so good? These questions flared through her mind much too fast. The euphoria was liberating. It was a release that surprised her in every way possible. It was exciting, thrilling, titillating even.

Until she began breathing.

The oxygen that circulated within her gave a damage report; a serious one. The nerves in her arm collaborated with every other sensor in her body, sending signals to her brain that told her that this was the biggest blunder she had ever made. Monica exhaled, and the pain had come in a constant stream, which stung her like a thousand steely knives raining from the heavens. She could feel her skin tearing apart, literally. Like a virus, the numbness began spreading, and she fell onto the couch in the fetal position. Her breaths were in short gasps, and she could swear that her entire arm was coated red. Everything began turning dark, but, like a tunnel, there was a light at the end. One that she kept going for.

As the bright redemption consumed her, Monica's groans turned into screams, which she believed to be her final.

_All of this blood would ruin the furniture._

So, she wandered around the endless space of her dreams now, every step holding the beginning of a new journey. It was a large and open plain, surrounded by blue snow-tipped mountains that faded into the night sky. Trees dotted the landscape, shading the grass from the effulgence above. Each star in the sky flickered in their own individual brilliance, encompassing the moon that stared at her, craters and all. There was no wind, but it was chilly. Monica folded her arms to combat this, and began walking inside her own imagination. She wore her favorite nightgown, but nothing more: Lavender, silk, and spaghetti straps. She took in the scene before her; it was a beautiful place, countering the hustle and bustle of New York. She was missing one thing, however: Company. If this truly was a dream, she could just conjure someone up, right? Yet no matter how much she pictured someone- anyone- nothing came. So much for doing her best.

_Alone again._

Monica decided to casually stroll over to a lone oak tree, and drag herself down the bark to sit. Her elbows rested capriciously on her huddled knees as she looked on the peaceful horizon. Any sign of life would be welcome, but at the same time, nothing could compare to the solitude this magical place had brought her. The hues of blue gently flowed with the malachite that colored the soil. It was stunning; if only she could capture it. It was strange, how the mind itself was both a blank canvas and a paintbrush. Or, in Monica's case, a pot and a wooden spoon.

She could imagine her friends; but couldn't create them yet, despite having the power to create anything she wanted with a little willpower. The things she could do, if she had done things differently...

The sound of rustling grass behind her pulled her from her reverie.

"Chandler?" Like a reflex, she twisted her body to the right, unsure of why she yelled **_his_ **name. To think of how much she had scared him that day: The way he had trouble even looking at her, the way he bit his tongue in order to stop from saying how stupid she was, and the way his fingers ran through his hair, made her nauseous. Of course it was stupid to believe that he'd feel the same way she did. It'd be much too easy. God forbid she'd have a fling, or even a last-minute boyfriend in her time of trouble. Someone to cry on. Someone to share the pain. Someone to absorb her tears for her. But alas, there was nothing.

Nothing but Ross and Rachel, lying down in the grass together, hands interlaced like the lovebirds they are.

"Look, Rach!" Ross pointed toward the sky, at the shooting star that was now propelling itself through the ocean of time. It left a rainbow that gently drizzled its way toward the mountains below, covering it like a blanket.

Rachel looked at it, mesmerized. "Make a wish, honey..."

He sighed, turning his head to face her. "You already came true."

Monica's mouth opened in disgust, ready to vomit. Did he _really _just say that to her? How much cheesier could that have been? It was like reading a romance novel, and comparing it to real life; which meant that it was contrived and unrealistic. But once you finished it, you felt nice and warm inside.

But only Ross would say something like that.

He was the biggest dork in the world; but, he was _her_ dork. As she told Monica one evening after a date, he was the greatest boyfriend she ever had. He cared about her. Ross didn't care about looks, or money, or social status. He liked Rachel for her _heart_.

Both of them appreciated that.

In all truth, however, he was also the greatest brother anyone could ask for. He defended Monica from whomever would pick on her, even go so far as to put his hands up like he was ready to fight. He'd get food for her when she was bored. He'd tutor her in whatever she needed help with in school. But for some reason, Monica couldn't shake the feeling of illness when she looked at the _perfect couple, _who now leaned in and gave each other a long, passionate kiss.

They looked so cute.

If only _she_ had a relationship like that. Guaranteed, she had Richard, but that was doomed from the start. He was so much older than her, and he didn't want the same things she did. Even that little thing they had a month ago was a folly, albeit a very pleasuring one.

If there was one word to describe her life, it would be unlucky.

She'd still recall those moments where her life could have gone a better direction. If she could go back, she would. The decisions she made were not at all smart or well-thought out; Monica was more of an in-the-moment person, unless it came to weddings or children. Although, she did see that part of being human was living with your choices; something she didn't want to do, which was one of the many reasons she tried to kill herself. When it failed, not only did she lose more faith in the world, but she was irritated by everything.

Monica gave the lobsters the dirtiest of looks; _Joey_ dirty, in fact, but they didn't see her. So she decided to crawl over to them, reaching her hand out to grab Ross's gelled hair. It was no surprise her heart stopped as it fell right through him and crashed against the loam, now soaked by tiny water droplets. This was weird. Her arm was inside his head, but it became evident that he really wasn't there; he was a figment of Monica's wild imagination. She waved once again, with the same results. Once more, and Monica overextended herself, falling into the wet pasture due to lack of balance. She hesitantly looked back up, skin glistening with Adam's ale, and there was nothing.

Spirit shaken, she carefully stood up and wiped away what little dirt was on her. If she was going to see hallucinations in this twisted little meadow, she might as well be clean. She was good at being clean, right? And obsessive? Fanatical?

Good. It would come in handy as she cleaned the apartment constantly, _not _questioning as to why her life was falling apart before her eyes. When she'd go to the diner, she'd hop up onto that table and be the best dancer she could. That's all she knew how to be. The best.

Monica sauntered forward, going in whatever direction the wind breezed her. After watching her bare feet for perhaps an hour, her fragile soul snapped from reliving the experience, and she fell to the ground, her chimera turning dark.

Once she'd awoken, dozens of flashing lights, the clicking of cameras, and heavy applause attacked her senses. Monica's eyes fluttered open to see the dull brown carpet below her black pumps, and the legs of the gray folding chairs in front of her. Her chin rested heavily in her hand. The light that beamed from outside told her she was now on an island, which was not too shabby. Looking forward to see the commotion, her brain began functioning again, as she hurriedly forged a backstory for this particular dream. The three hour speech Ross had made would put any sane person to sleep; but it felt like she was the only one who was even bored. Thankfully, it was over. Ross stood at his podium, shaking the hand of some old geezer. He smiled at her, and all around her, at his friends, family, and colleagues. Must've been proud of himself, she thought. No one can ramble on about dinosaurs or tectonic plates like he could.

He smiled as half the room took his picture holding a very large check.

_Nine hundred thousand dollars. _

For discovering a bone? In Who-The-Hell-Cares, Timbuktu?

Turning left to right, Rachel, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe were all cheering for him, so she decided it was best to be happy for her brother as well; even though she was more envious than happy. No one would give her almost a million dollars for cooking authentic Maine lobster, because that's not a world-changing discovery or an explanation of how something works. It didn't _matter. _

It reminded her as to why she became a chef in the first place: Her salary was pitiful, she dealt with incompetent chefs and waiters, and while she worked at Moondance, she had to dance on the counter like some floozy. Her previous thoughts about being 'the best' had escaped her. Fake breasts and a wig were part of her routine. It was more than degrading, and it barely paid the bills. She's just lucky that she loved food more than anything else.

However, this was not the time to hate her life. This was the time to congratulate Ross on his.

As she stood up from the aluminum trap, Monica nearly fell over from a head rush. She staggered into the aisle with the rest of her friends, and walked up to a bouncing Ross. He had more than a grin on his face, like he had just won the lottery. Monica pecked him on the cheek and flatly congratulated him, and gazed at the hypnotizing peach cream wall in front of her. Rachel was behind her. She knew that she was going to give him the most romantic kiss in the world; Monica couldn't watch.

But she couldn't resist. Taking a deep breath, Monica turned around. Like she thought, Ross held Rachel in his arms, the check seemingly vanished, like this was some sort of dream. His lips collided with hers in what could only be described as complete ecstasy.

It was at that moment that it hit her; she was seeing exactly what she wanted to see. Monica was jealous. She wanted to be kissed like that. Not by Ross, of course, but by anyone. It looked so wonderful, so pleasing, and so... gross. It drove Monica to her breaking point. She hadn't been kissed like that since Julio; and he definitely wasn't worth it.

Her body shivered at the sight. With all of her will, she wished it away. She implored it to go and leave her to suffer in silence. It did what she wanted. The room melted away, everyone inside with it. It was just darkness that surrounded her now, as she was finally in control of her own thoughts; something she took great joy in, as this was usually the case.

Monica then created a mental of herself, at her wedding. To whomever; she didn't care. Maybe this would work. And it did. It was her time to shine, her time to be the blushing bride.

The man before her was a little taller than her, dressed in a black tuxedo with a lightly striped golden polyester jacquard vest. His bow tie hung somewhat loosely around his neck, and his pants were unhitched, hovering just above his black wingtips. Unfortunately, that was all she could see of him; his face was blank and he had no hair. But that didn't matter. This was about her. This was her day, even if it wasn't real.

Monica's shimmering chiffon milky-white dress clung to her like dust on a vase. Her bare shoulders scintillated in the torchlight, and her cardinal lips went well with the ivory teeth that concealed them until she smiled at her soon-to-be husband. She glimpsed at the rows of empty chairs, pretending people are looking at her. They were green with envy.

Her eyes leered at the gentleman before her. He was so handsome as he placed the golden sapphire ring upon her finger, declaring his eternal love, in this life and the next.

_You may now kiss the bride._

With that, he leaned in, and planted a tender kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. The applause in her head smothered her, and the violins' tune reverberated throughout the depths of her psyche, sending a surge of warmth through her entire body, down to her heels. The jubilation she felt was mimicked as her delicate hands rested on the man's firm chest, like a dandelion hitting a pillow. His rough and strong hands laid mildly on the diamond studded waist of her dress, deliberately holding her against him. It felt so right, and she couldn't believe that she was getting married. Despite this not being her dream wedding, even though it was _her _dream, Monica could not be happier. This was something she'd gladly not wake from.

As her spouse pulled away, Monica's eyes still remained closed. But soon, her head rested against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, slow yet loud. She nearly collapsed from the heat, and it seemed that he noticed this as well. He pulled away yet again, but this time, it only became hotter. It was burning up. Dangerously so. Once again, she had to abort the phantasm, escaping the torridity for good. As the final shred of the man who married her disintegrated, she caught a faint whiff of something.

Tobacco.

Her eyes shot open, hoping to see _**him**. _

However, the only thing she saw the pale orange wall she was staring at earlier- and the subsequent hole she had just made through it.

The beautiful wedding gown she was wearing had disappeared, along with her wedding band. Hoping that she wasn't correct, Monica slowly looked down; she was naked. This didn't help her at all. She turned around, hoping to have a good dream for once, only to see Ross, Rachel, and two hundred other people staring at her. She was embarrassed beyond belief, but the shock had concealed her true color: Anger.

Rachel was wearing the dress- _the _dress- the one she was wearing just a second ago. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be in control. Now, however, her imagination was slipping from her hands, like sand beneath the sea. She would not take this anymore. Monica lashed at her best friend in rage, ready to claw the gown off of her by any means necessary. But like in the dreamland earlier, she fell right through the apparition of Rachel, crashing to the cold, unforgiving floor, laced with cherry blossoms that taunted her barren frame.

She slammed her fist into the ground, which destroyed the shameful mirage.

The darkness had come around her again, ready to form what she wanted; within it's own reason, of course.

But all she wanted to do was wake up.

She closed her eyes one last time, and felt a somewhat heavy weight in her arms. A disarming sound cut the tension for her; a baby cooing. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life. As she cracked her eyes open, the big black pupils that stared back at were brimming with live. The toothless smile that was showing shut the world out. Nothing was ever as good as taking care of a child. It was wrapped in a white linen cloth, which smelled fresher than her own sock drawer. The tiny strands of hair that laid upon this baby- presumably a girl- hovered close to her eyes, dangling soothingly over her long and beautiful eyelashes. It had to have been Monica's. The black hair, the black eyes, the smooth skin... It was Monica's. Definitely. The hatred she carried disappeared like a dust bunny.

She gave her daughter a soft kiss on the forehead as she laid down on the couch, holding her gorgeous gift to the world up. She was an angel, sent from the heavens to fulfill the only thing Monica ever wanted. She didn't need a husband, not when she had a child whom she could protect, coddle, and love forever.

It was perfect.

The door to the apartment swung open, revealing a very tired Ross. He walked over to Monica, who had sat up when he entered, pulling out his wallet. Handing her a hundred dollar bill, Ross closed his wallet and stuffed it back into his pocket before taking the baby from her arms into his own.

"Thanks, Mon. See you tomorrow."

She blinked, unaware if what just happened _actually_ happened. "U-Uh... What?"

Ross replied, taking out a bottle from a bag behind them. "Yeah, Rachel and I have Monday off, so we're going shopping, remember?"

Monica's heart sank with denial, not wanting to see what her eyes could. "N-No..."

Ross fed the sweet child bottled breast milk, before glancing back at her. "Well, we are. Here's a little extra, just in case." He took out his wallet again, and handed her a twenty. Waving goodbye, he left, baby in tow.

Monica froze, like she had been dipped in carbonite. That was not her child. That was **_their_ **child. She was just _babysitting. **Babysitting**. _

Her teeth began grinding as her fists clenched. What kind of sick game is this? Why does her mind play with her like she's a chew toy that will just be tossed into the trash when it's on the ground in pieces? Monica wanted to cry, but she wouldn't let herself show weakness.

Not even to herself.

She didn't deserve this. She really didn't. Why was this happening to her? Who did she slaughter in a past life?

Monica just wished her heart would stop beating. She could dream forever, and they would all be good dreams. Because she wouldn't be on this earth, having emotions that kept her crushed underneath the yolk of society. She wanted her freedom. She didn't care how she got it. All the jealousy, pain, greed, etc. would just disappear from her life.

Nothing was easy, it seemed.

The harder she ran from everything, the faster everything chased her.

Maybe, there was another way.

It would be harder than anything, and she knew she would regret it.

But anything was better than this.

So when she told her arm to roll over, it did. When she told her lips to part, they did. If she was going down, it would be on her feet, fighting, not laying in a dingy hospital bed, crying for help. Monica chose to resist **_herself_**.

_Her worst enemy. _

Once the chains had been loosened, she saw the mistake for what it truly was: A mistake. She was tough; that much was sure. Besides, if she was going to commit suicide again, she'd say good-bye to her friends this time. She'd tell them she loved them, cared about them, and would die for them. She'd cook one last meal, and hug them with all the love she could give.

That would be a final test of her strength.

So when the pain in her arm halted her movement, she struck it down like a true warrior would when faced with adversity. When she felt the familiar hand of her brother hold her back, she kicked at him like a stubborn girl who didn't get what she wanted.

When she heard her mother's voice, she opened her eyes, and locked on to her newest target.

Her weapon of choice?

A crooked smile.


	21. Chapter 21: Lobsters Forever

**AN: Sorry if this chapter is a little lackluster!  
><strong>**It's hard to think at 3 am. **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Several mysterious curios hung up on the wall: Jade animals, nativity scenes, used incense sticks with holders, and the like.<p>

A bell was rung, and a robed figure came out from a dark room.

"_**Greetings**_. I am Hilda." It was raspy and thick; obviously an elderly woman.

"...I'm Phoebe, and this is Joey."

Nodding her head, the woman, who could not have been a day under seventy by the heavily sagging skin on her neck and face, gestured the duo to follow her through the beaded door curtains from where she came. They complied, albeit cautiously. The room they entered was pitch-black, apart from the round table that stood erect in the middle of the room, covered in a purple sheet adorned with blooming sunflowers, and the mahogany chairs that were on either side.

The wooden floor was creaky and fragile; it was unknown how it managed to stay together.

The woman sat down in her chair, and Phoebe sat across from her as Joey kept standing.

"Now, darling, what do you need?"

Phoebe, still uneasy from the atmosphere, quickly replied. "Just a couple of questions."

Hilda nodded, and laid her arms on the table. "Mm... Give me your hands."

Phoebe put her hands into her cold and bony hands of the psychic, which, while unsettling at first, became quite relaxing. Hilda flipped her hands over, and began tracing her palms with her finger. Joey took a step forward to observe; it still didn't make any sense to him.

"I feel... abandonment. Were you abandoned?"

"Yeah."

She put pressure on the back of Phoebe's hand. "How long ago?"

She thought back, amazed. "Wow. Fourteen years."

Hilda nodded, and quizzically whispered to her. "And you are feeling it again, no?"

She furrowed her brow, thinking that she really did feel like she was being abandoned. "Uh, yeah, I guess?"

Phoebe wasn't very sure of what she was really feeling. Seeing Ross and Monica like that, struggling to survive, slowly sapped the life out of her. Even if she had been through much worse, this was about people she cared about; people who were closer to her than her own family. That sight broke her more than all of her years on the streets. They didn't deserve this.

But pain didn't choose its victims.

Yet, it seemed that it leaned more towards the ones who didn't deserve it. Phoebe didn't understand, nor did she truly want to. The universe worked in mysterious ways, and it was not in her power to questions something so powerful. This had to be a test. Hurting the ones she loved in order to assess her fortitude.

All the while, though, Ross and Monica were slipping away.

"You long for one who understands you." Hilda broke her from her deep thought.

She looked at her, her heart beginning to pound. "I have friends who understand me!" Phoebe raised her voice in defense.

She shook her head, unconvinced. "No. You wish for love."

Phoebe retorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't we all?"

"Perhaps. But you feel strongly for someone."

"Ha! That's not true!"

It really wasn't. Phoebe didn't really like anyone at this point; she had way too many things to focus on than a relationship. She felt like after all that she's been through, love was not worth pursuing. In the end, someone would always get hurt.

She wasn't sure if she could take that.

But, when David and Duncan left her, she didn't have that male counterpart that she could confide and share her story with. Joey, Chandler, and Ross filled that void somewhat; but there was never anything romantic between any of them. Ross and Rachel were so happy together; why couldn't she be half as close with someone as they were? Even if it ended badly, Phoebe could say she's been there and done that.

"You can only deny yourself for so long." Hilda glared at her, trying to break the ruse.

Phoebe, without hesitation, changed the subject. "...Can I get to my question now?" She felt very uncomfortable talking about this now, especially with Joey around. As much as she trusted him, there are some things that no one must know about her.

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had more than one?"

Phoebe smiled, her lips full of denial. "Well, I only need one right now." She giggled in order to sound convincing, but to her it failed. So, she awkwardly waited for Hilda to speak next. She only shrugged, which Phoebe took as respecting her decision.

Thank God.

"Ask away, child."

Phoebe sighed, choking up. "Will my friends Ross and Monica get better soon?"

Hilda took her by her wrists, placing her hands on top of Phoebe's. "Hmm... All things heal in time, Phoebe. Might you be more specific?"

Phoebe withdrew her hands and placed a finger on her chin, pondering on how to phrase her question correctly; since Ross was already getting better, she decided to ask about Monica. "Okay... Will Monica wake up today?" She placed her hands back on the table, ready to do another reading.

She closed her eyes, and tilted her head upwards. "I see... her eyes. They are blue, like the sky."

"Yeah, that's right."

Her eyes opened, her pupils dilated. "My dear, it seems she has been awoken already."

Phoebe's gaze widened, unsure if she had heard that correctly. "What? Are you serious?"

Hilda stared at the dark ceiling, her eyes darting back and forth. "I see her. She is with the one you call Ross."

Phoebe stood up incredibly fast, knocking the chair over. Her eyes were riddled with disbelief, and she giddily bounced around. "Really? That's great! Thank you! Come on Joey!" Phoebe exclaimed, pulling out twenty dollars to pay her with.

"One sec." Joey interrupted her.

He picked up the fallen chair and sat down, putting his hands out. "When's my big break gonna come?"

Hilda was about to do another reading, but Phoebe pulled him out of the chair.

As he was dragged to the door, Joey yelled in protest. "Pheebs! Come on!"

She faced him, distressed. "No, Joey! We have to go!" With that, they headed for the door.

"But-" He was cut off this time.

She turned and faced him, her face blue with anger. "Now!" Her screaming shook the entire building, which nearly knocked Joey to the ground. Valiant, Phoebe took his hand, and left.

_Soon. Very soon._

Monica was still very loopy from the sedatives that were being pumped through her, but she could register the voices of Ross and her parents. All of them were talking at once as her eyes shot open and her hearing came to, which completely overwhelmed her. So many thoughts flooded her mind at once, and she could feel the various hoses and tubes that were shoved inside her body. It had only been eight hours since she'd done the dark deed.

Not even she had expected to arise so early.

Her first distinguishable thought: Maybe the same thing that happened with Ross would happen with her. Could she handle it?

Suddenly, everything stopped. The room had fallen silent.

Softly, Ross whispered at his disoriented sister. "Mon? Can you hear me?"

She slowly nodded her head downwards, signifying that her vitals were fine.

A wind of relief blew through them all, calming they're crushed hearts. Jack and Judy wiped their tears away, as Ross took Monica's hand, happy that his baby sister was fine. She was always a fighter, and they all knew it. They expected nothing less of their little Harmonica.

Judy sighed, sobbing beyond belief."Oh Monica..."

Jack simply stood still, his mouth clamped shut.

Ross grabbed Monica's hand. He held it as tight as he could, determined to never let go again. He had failed in his duty as a big brother. He was supposed to protect her; even from herself. Why didn't she talk to anybody? Why didn't she seek out help? What the hell even drove her to something so drastic?

By any means necessary, Ross would find the answers he needed.

Shedding a single tear, he looked into Monica's deep-blue eyes. They were glistening from the moisture that had built up, shining like the sun over an eclipse. She had fixated on the spotted ceiling tiles, which meant that she didn't have the energy or awareness to look around. Ross lamented, realizing that he needed to tell his friends the situation.

"I'm gonna phone the others."

His parents didn't reply, so he just wheeled himself toward the phone on the wall, and dialed the first number that came to his mind.

Rachel picked up her phone, and in a professional manner, greeted the person on the other line."This is Bloomingdale's, Joanna's office. How may I help you?"

Amorously, Ross replied to her gentle and soothing voice. "Rach, it's me. Come by as soon as possible. I have a surprise for you."

Her voice became squeaked and hurried; she was busy, like always. "Honey, can you tell me now? I'm kinda swamped over here."

"I think you'd rather see this in person." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Rachel exhaled slowly, her mind in a million different places at the moment. "Alright, alright. But it'll have to wait 'til tonight, okay?"

Ross groaned, half-disappointed and half-satisfied. Just hearing her voice made his day that much easier. Although, it's not like he had a full plate anyway. His trips to the bathroom often required a lot of work, though, so he decided to use that as an example.

"No problem. See ya then."

"Okay, honey."

Ross smiled, and kissed her over the phone. "I love you."

She grinned back, dropping her work onto the floor as she froze in place to whisper those words that sent shivers up their spines.

"I love you too."

With that, he hung up, and began dialing again. Ross wasn't sure of how well Monica could hear him, so he decided to play it safe. When no one answered, Ross tried several other possibilities. Joey and Chandler weren't home; and neither was Phoebe.

So, he took a shot.

Flatly, he answered. "Chandler Bing."

Ross quickly replied. "It's Ross. Get over here."

Concerned, Chandler asked. "Is everything alright, man?"

"Better than alright. Monica's awake." He took great joy in saying those words.

"Really?" Chandler was more than surprised.

"Yep."

Sarcastically, he stated his mind. "Damnit. I'm not scheduled to die today."

Chuckling, Ross became grave. "Quit it. Just come over."

"Fine. Tonight okay for you, your majesty?" He mocked, back to his old self, even if for just a moment.

"Sure. Now back to the fields, peasant." Ross smiled, this time for real.

"Yes, your highness!"

Chandler hung up. Ross was too busy laughing at their banter. He wheeled himself back to his sister, seeing that she had fallen back to a much-needed and dreamless sleep.

They rushed through the doors, speeding to the elevators. Once they were in, Joey and Phoebe's anxiety only grew in size. Pressing the button to Ross and Monica's floor, they were hopping about like they had to pee. The second an opening presented itself, Joey attempted to squeeze right on through, but got stuck. After a strong kick from Phoebe, they were free, and made a beeline for Monica's room.

Without looking through the tiny glass window, they burst in. At first, they were sorely disappointed, but after Ross pulled them to the side and explained everything, they're hearts stopped their death race.

Joey and Phoebe greeted Mr. and Mrs. Geller formally, despite their hurried appearance. After examining Monica's sleeping form, they went to the side of the room as to not crowd her. Sitting down in various spots, they began chatting.

Small talk had turned into storytime, as little anecdotes were shared throughout, mostly about Ross and Monica. After finishing a particularly funny one, the entire group burst into laughter. They quickly looked to see if that had woken up Monica, but thankfully, she was a heavy sleeper. All of the uneasiness and tension that laid siege to their minds had been erased. It was beautiful. For the first time in a week, they had a conversation that didn't include crying or running out of the room. They enjoyed each others company, and it felt so right.

Joey was mesmerized by the dozens of magic tricks that Jack had. One included taking a quarter out of his shoe, which made Joey pledge to search everyone's shoes from now on. Phoebe was busy reading Judy's palms like Hilda had, which she seemed to show an unusual interest in. Ross, on the other hand, kept to himself, as he watched the earth turn beneath their feet.

As it moved on, so did they.

The cozyness of Central Perk returned. Chandler ordered a coffee-to-go, and Gunther made it on the double after he slipped that Rachel might be coming by. He took a sip immediately, feeling the liquid caffeine arouse his senses as he prepared for the hardest thing he ever had to do:

Tell Monica that he loved her.

Even after talking to Rachel _and _Ross earlier, he still kept a box of fear locked up inside the depths of his mind. He knew it would explode as soon as he confronted Monica, and no amount of patting on the back or crying on a shoulder could stabilize his emotions enough to keep cool in front of her.

Each man faces death by himself; be it physical or mental.

And yet, he knew that if he didn't tell her how he felt, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Chandler chose the lesser of the two evils.

Her finger slid down the center of the photo, landing on Ross's heaving chest. Rachel looked like such a mummy, decrepit and worn. Her makeup was smudged and run with tears; her clothes were wrinkled and moist. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was the most beautiful person in the world compared to the witch in the picture. Still, it reminded her of days gone by. She'd think back to that night, wishing it could have been different. It easily could have been.

If Ross didn't cheat on her with that slut.

It still hurt. Badly. Every time she thought about it, she wanted to put her head through a wall just so she'd forget. It was easy to forgive him after the accident; she was vulnerable and alone. She needed Ross. Now, the more things were getting better, the more reality had come back to bite her. Rachel loved him more than ever.

The only problem was she couldn't trust him.

They both said things they didn't mean; and she was sure that Ross was not faking it when he tried apologizing that night, either. However, that didn't mean their relationship would be rebuilt in a day. Things took time and work. Rachel wanted to make it work. It would be hard, sure, but she wanted it more than anything in the world.

Despite her previous allegations, Rachel defended her decision.

On a break does **_not_ **mean broken up.

And she would make Ross see that trust is not something so easily repairable.

But it was best not to bother him with this now; what mattered was that Ross and Monica needed to get better.

So, she fixed her hair and clothes, left the pile of paperwork she had to get done by tomorrow evening on her bed, and walked out of her apartment.

Rachel and Chandler arrived at almost the same exact time. The only difference was how they arrived. Rachel by cab, Chandler by foot. They greeted each other with a hug, and he quietly whispered 'thank you' once more. Rachel smiled in return, telling him that if he needed her for anything, she'd be there.

They headed up towards Ross's room, where Jack and Judy sat with their son.

Ross waved at his friend and lover, smiling like he had won a million bucks. "Hey, you guys."

Rachel greeted his parents, while Chandler simply nodded.

Walking over to Ross, Rachel kissed him on the forehead."So honey, you said you had a surprise for me?" She was anxious; what could Ross surprise her with at the hospital? Used bandages? Cafeteria food? Little did she know, the next words that came from his mouth would marvel her.

He grinned, as he took her hand. "Yes, I did. Monica's awake."

Her eyes brightened like the sun on the horizon. "What? Really?"

Ross kissed her hand, like a courtship romance. "Yes ma'am."

Rachel bounced off, waving the four of them to come with her. "Oh, that's so great! Let's go see her!" She couldn't believe it; just the day before, Monica tried to kill herself. And now, after inflicting a pretty serious wound to herself, she was magically awake? Was modern medicine really that good? Or was the cut not as bad as she thought?

But it came to her.

It was beginning to become a repeat of what happened to Ross.

Hopefully, it wouldn't follow through.

Ross drooped his arm over the bed, breaking her train of thought. "We're good. We just spent the whole day with her."

She was a bit disappointed, but decided to stay as optimistic as possible. "Oh. Okay. Well, Chandler, you'll come, right?"

His sarcasm never ceased as he answered her. "Ha! Why wouldn't I?"

Rachel coyly smiled back, and took his hand. As they left, Ross gave him a reassuring nod; but this only scared him more. He wanted to leave, desperately, and forget everything. He could pretend that he was prepared, but when the time came, he winged it. Chandler didn't want to go down that road again.

"Do we really have to go see her?" Chandler became a more and more worried.

"Yes, Chandler. Well, you do." Rachel faced him, and turned him toward Monica's room.

"Pardon?" He whipped back around, his voice breaking.

She smiled, and took a few steps backward. "I want to be with Ross for a few minutes."

He scoffed at her, and moved forward. "And that means leaving me in the dust? Tre rude!"

Rachel sighed, knowing that there was nothing to be afraid of. "You'll manage. I told you I'd be here for you." And she would. Rachel knew how scared Chandler was; and she would never forsake him in his time of need. Along with her, he was the closest to Ross and Monica. Seeing them like that, it had to have been an indescribable suffering.

Chandler sighed, and softly spoke to her. "...Have an ambulance ready."

Rachel looked at him, to see if that was an actual question. "But we-"

He replied in the only way he knew how: Sarcastically. "Yes I know we're at a hospital blah blah blah!"

She decided not to deal with his antics anymore. "Chandler, just go. Besides, Joey and Phoebe might be there."

Chandler pointed at her. "Fine. You owe me."

"Yes, alright, just go."

Chandler blew pretentious air out of his mouth, and turned around. Rachel watched him walk away, slouching. He shuffled his way to the weave that fate made for him; and was more than ready to just be wrapped up in it and taken away.

He'll be fine.

She walked back into Ross's room, which, to him, was a welcome surprise.

"That was fast."

Rachel grinned at him, and flipped her hair back. "I know, but I wanted to see you."

Ross smiled, as Rachel sat on the bed with him, throwing her arm over his recovering shoulder. Rubbing it gently, she kissed him on the cheek. Ross looked over to his parents, who've been silent for most of the visit. "Mom, dad, can we be alone, please?"

Jack smiled and stated in a way only he could. "Why would we miss this free romance movie?"

Judy stopped and slapped him on the arm, and pulled him up. "Jack!"

Jack yelled as he was dragged towards the door. "I'm just saying! They're right in front of us!"

She pulled him out the room. "Come on. We can get some food downstairs."

Jack popped his head back in. "Okay. You kids make sure to leave a sock on the door-"

He was cut off by an embarrassed Ross. "Yeah, dad, we got it. Thanks." The door was closed behind them, and Ross and Rachel laughed at the silliness of his parents. They did love him, a lot. They loved Monica, too, but had a hard time expressing it, as she was not a miracle.

Once they left, Rachel pulled Ross into a tender kiss. As they parted, they gazed into each other's eyes, and found happiness.

Rachel ran her fingers through his now freshly washed hair. "You know, I was thinking about you all day."

Ross scrunched his face at her, teasing her. "A little distracted, are we?"

Rachel pinched his cheeks. "Well, I just missed your cute wittle face."

Ross smiled, and kissed her softly. "I missed you too. What else is up?"

"Not much, other than I have a stack of work back home that I have to finish in..." She glanced at her watch. "eleven hours."

"You should get started."

Rachel slid her finger down his cheek, whispering into his ear. "But I want to stay with you for a little longer."

He put up a weak protest. "But sweetie..."

She stopped him dead in his tracks. "You don't have a say."

Ross, exhausted, allowed her to win. "Okay."

Rachel smiled at him, before he spoke again.

"I love you." Those three words caused the world to stop; Rachel could barely breathe as his soft lips made their way to hers. It was strange, how something so trivial like a kiss can make someone crazy. Each time they felt each other's touch, Ross and Rachel could not stop their hearts from thumping in their chests.

As they pulled away, she exposed her soul for him, and him alone.

"I love you too."

Ross winced slightly as he put his arms around her waist. It may have caused pain, but he'd be stupid if he thought the lovely Rachel Green wasn't worth it. He finally had everything he could ask for. A beautiful girlfriend, the greatest friends in the world, the greatest family in the world, and even a good paying job.

_An income that could support, say, a married couple. _

He looked into her eyes one last time, and looked at how Rachel was holding back from crying. Chivalry running through his veins, he spoke. "I wish I could hold you in my arms forever, Rachel. I would protect you, serve you, and love you, until the end of time."

As he noticed the lines of tears making their way down her supple cheeks, he continued, heart set on telling her how he really felt.

"I would die for you. A million times over. No hesitation, no looking back. _**That's **_how much I love you." Ross paused, and began crying himself. He knew he had to finish this before he became unintelligible. "I-I would give up everything just to be with you. I love you more than anything in the universe."

With that, he buried himself into Rachel's chest, unable to continue. Ross's sobs commandeered him, ready to pilot them into the future, together.

Rachel, however, had never felt happier. Those words struck a never-ending chord of joy, sending her cries into a whirlwind of emotion. She held Ross as tight as possible, wishing that they could be one. She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve someone who loved her enough to _die _for her.

As the Lobsters' tears grew stale, they simply stayed in their positions, holding each other in passionate silence.

Ross mumbled one final time; he made sure that his words loud enough for her to hear.

"I love you, Rachel Green."

Her eyes watered in response, despite believing that she couldn't cry anymore. So, she took him in again, and, unable to speak, they sobbed in each other's arms once more.

They said true love didn't exist; they never met Ross and Rachel.


	22. Chapter 22: The Truth

**AN: There is adult language here.  
>You've been warned.<strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>You can do this.<em>

_You can tell her. _

Chandler's mind wandered to the possibilities of how this confrontation would go. His face was soaking wet, having flushed it with cold water. As his palms rested against the bathroom counter, he smiled a coy smile. After this, everything would be so much easier. Or, at least that's what he thought.

God, she was so beautiful.

Her livid skin only accentuated the twinkling blue diamonds that sat between her long, luscious eyelashes.

This was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster.

Chandler had stepped into the room only a minute earlier, after looking at himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes and waiting in front of the door for about ten. To his absolute horror, Monica was not only awake, but having small talk with Phoebe, who promptly left as he walked in, his solemn demeanor giving off the biggest hint a person could give.

Joey was, like always, in the cafeteria, now eating with Ross and Monica's parents.

_Lucky bastards._

He'd rather get chicken bits spat on him by a hungry Italian than see _**her**_.

But, with all things in life, there was no turning back.

So, Chandler and Monica were now alone together; with Phoebe intently leaving the door jarred open so she could eavesdrop. The tension was incredible. A katana could not cut through it. As genuine as possible, and hoping to get this out of the way so he could rest (whether it be in his bed or in the soil), Chandler whispered softly, giving her a kind and caring smile.

"...How're ya feeling?"

She coughed, clearing her rugged throat. Her voice was still a bit hoarse. "Better."

He smiled, taking a few steps forward, shoving his hands into his slack pockets. "You, uh, gave us quite a scare."

She choked a bit, her eyes growing sadder with each passing second.

Chandler stood at the foot of her bed, and his expression had become serious, if only for a moment. "Why'd you do this, Mon?"

Monica didn't have an answer to that; at least not one that would satisfy his desires. Anything she said had the potential to place the blame directly on him; something that he didn't deserve. So, believing that the solution lied in obscurity, she took the opportunity to dumbfound him in the safest way possible.

She remained silent, her gaze still locked on him.

Chandler folded his lips into his mouth, and closed his eyes. Slowly, he whispered, croaked. "It's because of _me_, right?"

Her plan, like the rest of her life, had backfired.

"What? No, Chandl-" Her voice became softer as she held out her good arm, hoping he'd listen to her plea.

"Monica," He alternated between raising his arms in the air and holding them towards her. His despair had transformed into anger, littered with denial. After flailing about like a fish out of water, the three magic words came out in a thunderous voice, rocking her to her core. "I **_love_ **you!"

"W-What?" She managed to lift her head off of the pillow, supported by her elbows, taken aback by his declaration.

_What did he just say_?

"You heard me. I love you. I'm in _love_ with you, _**Monica**_!" The words came out faster than he could process them; it was his heart speaking, not his mind. The fear that loitered within was released, all at once, in one giant burst that ripped him apart at the seams. He didn't understand what he said at first, but when he did, he just wanted to lay down and cry.

Did that really happen?

Monica had no words. Her heart stopped beating, and her mouth was agape in total shock.

It was still a dream to her.

"I love you, Monica. I've been in love with you for almost, what, ten years now?" Chandler laughed gently, trying to detain the overwhelming sadness. It was hard, even harder than telling her he loved her. To see her mouth jitter in shock, to see the tears cascade down her milky face, made him regret everything.

His laughter drowned in it's own sorrow.

No matter how much Monica wanted to tell him that she loved him too, it would not come out.

"Monica..." His voice became the epitome of dysphoria. Any attempt to get her to respond with words was met with a longing gaze; the meaning of which was lost to Chandler. He stared at her, and began to break apart, piece by piece. His cries grew, and his knees buckled. Despite the enormous pain, he managed to keep on his feet.

For several minutes this went on, until Chandler decided that this was going nowhere.

So, as they tearfully looked at one another one last time, unable to speak, Chandler turned around, and left the room.

He pushed the door open, knocking Phoebe to the ground. He whispered a very sad 'sorry', and walked away.

_Never again. _

Her body and mind were failing rapidly, and the increasingly repetitive sound of the stamp stamping was beginning to drive her crazy. Thinking back, she should have went home when Ross told her rather than make out with him on his hospital bed, despite how enjoyable that was. It was already 6:00 a.m., and Rachel was drowning in paperwork, of which she had barely made a dent in. This was crazy. This was unreasonable.

It was enough to make her quit.

She hated being under Joanna. She was much too callous about everything. Seeing poor Sophie getting belittled and scorned at every little thing broke Rachel's heart; she would _**not** _end up like that. It was enough to motivate her to end the tyranny, and bring peace to the office. Joanna's attitude was not that of a leader, but a dictator.

_A leader inspires; a dictator controls. _

Rachel remembered Ross quoting that while they watched a documentary on World War II, together. It didn't make sense- until now.

So, Rachel slammed the stamp onto the table, and put her messy hair into a ponytail. She'd had enough of being Joanna's slave. Picking up her work, she busted out of the apartment, in her tanktop and pajama pants, and headed straight for Bloomingdale's. It was time to make a stand; not for herself, but for all those who are too stressed to file three-hundred and forty-two papers in **_one_ **night.

She burst through the sliding doors, without care or regard to those who stared at her storm by in her nightwear. Many papers flew about, which helped Rachel only prove her point. Rachel managed to hold onto the entire stack with one arm as she pressed the button to the third floor; and she was alone, which, this time, was good. As the doors flung open, she hurriedly walked forward, once again ignoring the gaze of her co-workers. As she reached her desk, the stack of forms crashed onto the poor varnished wood, causing a booming thud that could shake the foundations of the building.

Sophie sat at her desk quietly; this was going to get good.

"Rachel, are those finished?" Joanna opened the door to her office, surprised, and peeked around, pointing to the stack of forms.

"No. And I'm not _going_ to finish them!" Rachel shouted, clenching her fists.

"Excuse me?" She furrowed her brow, somewhat impressed with Rachel's outright defiance.

She gestured toward her pile of paperwork, screaming. "This is too much fucking _work_, Joanna! It's bullshit! Ya know, even a tight-laced_ hard-ass_ like you should know that no human can do this much in _one_ night! God! I can't even take time off for an emergency! I **_quit_**!" She didn't even bother to take the her special muffin out of its desk; she just turned around and hiked her way out of the office.

"No, Rachel, wait!" Joanna gave chase, pulling on Rachel's naked arm.

Reluctantly, she faced her former boss, seething. "_What_?"

Hastily, Joanna tried to persuade her to stay."Okay, um, how would you like a raise?"

"Not worth it." She ripped her arm away, and turned around again, walking towards the elevators.

"Okay," Joanna clapped her hands together, making sure Rachel could hear her. "What if I make you an Assistant Buyer? Here?"

"And why the _hell_ would you do that?" Rachel crossed her arms, spinning around.

"Y-You're a hard worker. The best assistant I've ever had. I would've put you up for promotion sooner, but you're so good at being at_ my _side, do you understand?" Joanna stuttered, trying to make a good image for herself and Rachel. She managed to get her to listen, anyway; something that she did very well.

"...Go on." Rachel pondered, wondering if she would sweeten the deal.

"You'll have a corner office. An expense account. Sophie can be your new assistant. Thirty days paid vacation for the rest of the year. Effective tomorrow. How's that sound?" It was everything an Assistant Buyer could possibly want, other than another promotion. Rachel really was a great worker, and deserved to be in the higher echelons of the company, but Joanna was too selfish to let her go- until now.

"Take it, take it!" Sophie hissed through her teeth.

"...It sounds wonderful, Joanna." It was too much of a good offer to pass up. Rachel wouldn't have as big a workload, and she'd make twice as much as she did now. That took her rage and killed it, leaving only a smidgen of respect and happiness.

"Okay. Good. How about you take the rest of the day off?" Joanna sighed, grateful.

"...Thank you, Joanna."

With that, Rachel quietly left. She couldn't believe that she had just threatened her way into a promotion.

Maybe things weren't so bad, after all.

As she carved a path through the crowd of people herding around the entrance to Bloomingdale's, Rachel debated on either going to see Ross and Monica, or to go home and get some much needed sleep. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she headed to the hospital, where she'd sleep in Ross's room.

It was a clear morning, and it was a little warmer than it was before. Spring was right around the corner, and the trees and flowers would grow again, ready to preserve the natural order of life. It would always be so stunning, sitting in Central Park, smelling the freshly cut grass while the hundreds of people went past. It was like a dream, being one with nature inside a huge metropolis.

New York City. As Chandler would say, could it _be_ any better?

Along the way, Rachel was sidetracked. She wanted to feel that natural feeling of warmth that emanated from the park; she wanted to think, just like the day after the accident. The emotions she felt that day were nothing short of powerful. To think that all logic and reasoning could be crushed by love, or anger, or even sadness, staggered her.

So, as her flip flops crunched the grass beneath her, she was reminded of how great her life truly was. She had her freedom. She had a family who loved her, friends who cared about her, and a boyfriend who would _die_ for her. Rachel had it all; but it took the risk of losing the one most important to her to realize it.

Was this true happiness?

And, when she came to that same pond, the one that she watched, engraved in her memory. Four days, was it? Since she'd looked into it, watching the ripples collide with the cement wall? It seemed like four lifetimes, ever since that damned night. They didn't _need_ to break up. They both said things that they didn't mean. None of this should ever have happened.

But, a saving grace. The accident taught them that of which they would never learn without an experience like this. To move on, to persevere in the face of adversity, to learn that the bond of love and friendship is stronger than any bullet _or_ razor.

It came as a flurry, the memories, the feelings, the images that popped into head like toast from a toaster. The children next to her, skipping rocks across the sparkling water, shining from the sun, created dozens of ripples, each falling in suit with the ones that followed. Like always, they spread out like a wildfire, until they dissipated, one wave at a time.

One child, a small, fair skinned boy, skipped one which sank before it hit the wall .

It created six ripples.

Six.

They rose and fell, together.

Until the very end.


	23. Chapter 23: Walk On

**AN: Here's some more Mondler for my dearest readers.  
><strong>**Don't worry, the Lobsters will make a comeback. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Unbelievable.<p>

Un-freaking-believable.

_Chandler is in love with me._

Monica laid in her not-so-cozy bed, once again staring at the ceiling, subconsciously counting the dots that were imprinted on the tiles. What the _hell_ just happened last night? The man who said that he had no feelings for her was actually madly in love with her, and she just sat there, speechless. Then, like during his parents divorce, Chandler blamed himself; the exact opposite of what was _supposed_ to happen. As he left the room, he saw the sadness building up within him.

And she didn't do anything to stop it.

She just cried, hoping that the situation would resolve itself.

No matter how much Phoebe assured her everything would be alright, it would only get worse. Monica felt the worst self-loathing possible, watching him shuffle out like a man who's lost everything. It was exactly like the way she left him the other day; only he went after her. It shouldn't have gone that way. She should have _said_ something.

But she didn't. And it was too late to right the wrongs without emotionally scarring either of them.

Hopefully, it would not turn out to be exactly like what happened to her.

Would he sit on the couch, crying, holding a sharp piece of metal to his trembling wrist?

As the thought entered her mind, an instantaneous explosion of tears came, erupting like a volcano. The pain made her want to vomit. Trying to block out the image would only make it that much more harrowing. She would never forgive herself if something happened to Chandler; or any of her friends, for that matter. For the man she loved, losing him would be losing her, as well.

Phoebe tried to calm the insatiable bawling, as Monica slowly raised her right arm; her good arm.

"What? What do you need?" Phoebe's tone was cautious, ready to receive her friend's request.

"Find, him." Monica was heaving, her cries becoming sniffles soon enough. She needed to know that Chandler was okay; that he was not in the hospital, lying in a bed, being opened by a scalpel.

Without a second thought, Phoebe rushed out of the room, and towards Ross's. It was so alarming, yet so wonderful at the same time. Monica ordered her to find Chandler, even though she was now a human water pump. Deep down, from all of the years spent with them, Phoebe knew that Chandler had a crush on her; but she did not expect Monica to return it.

What a love story: Through tragedy and heartbreak, love springs anew.

Phoebe opened the door to Ross's room, and, bitter-sweetly, Chandler was inside, sulking in a chair, along with Ross and Joey; of whom were (unsuccessfully) comforting him.

"What's up, Pheebs?" Joey whispered in a mellow tone, rubbing Chandler's back. It was hard to see his best friend like that; with good reason. Joey was never one to abandon his friends, especially Chandler, considering that were practically brothers.

"Just checking," Phoebe gingerly sauntered over to him, kneeling in front of him. "How are you doing, Chandler?"

He laughed, disheartened; it was the saddest laugh Phoebe had ever heard. "How do ya think? I'm the reason Monica..." He gestured towards her room, his voice cracking. "Did that."

The events of last night looped in his head, each time becoming more agonizing. He remained sure of his discovery, even though it was never explicitly stated, by Monica or anyone else. It didn't matter, anyway, as his mind was made up.

"How do you know for **_sure_**, though?" Phoebe asked, her tone littered with false understanding.

"I could see it in her _eyes_." He buried his face into his hands, gently weeping.

"It's in your head, Chandler. There has to be another reason." This was becoming a problem. No matter how much they tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault, he accepted that it was. The fact that she couldn't respond with anything but tears told Chandler everything that he wanted to hear; his worst fears.

He was unwilling to believe that which was right in front of him.

Ross butted in, ending the brief pause. "I've been telling him that all day, but he won't listen." He looked at his disturbed friend, wondering what went through his head. He was crying over nothing; Ross knew that none of this was because of him, and if he'd talked to Monica, he'd know that.

However, much like himself, Chandler was a stubborn bastard, in his own little way.

"Come on, Chandler! Snap out of it! Why don't we go see Monica, huh?" Phoebe shook him, violently, causing him to drop his hands. She took one, and pulled him out of his chair, heading towards the door. She'd had enough of his bellyaching, and decided to take action.

"_**No**_!" He ripped away from her mid-way through the room, standing strong, despite his broken heart.

She groaned. "...Fine! But I hope you know that Monica feels just as bad as you do, if not worse!"

With that, Phoebe stormed out of the room. She couldn't believe this. Last night, Monica, after comforting her, told Phoebe what had happened. She then elected to stay the night, in hopes that she wouldn't attempt to hurt herself further, hidden under the guise that Phoebe had termites.

And now, despite knowing about their mutual feelings, Chandler and Monica made no progress.

"Pheebs?" A voice pulled her from her reverie, as she listlessly rounded a corner. "Hey!"

As she whipped around, Rachel's grin seemed even bigger than usual.

"Oh, hey!" She gave Rachel a welcoming hug, happy to see one smiling face, for once. Even though she looked like she had just woken up, Rachel was happier than a falcon eating it's freshly caught prey. Her dismay towards Chandler was mitigated as they stood in the hallway.

"So, what, d'ya just come out of bed?"

"Even better. I just got promoted to _Assistant Buyer_!" Rachel was absolutely beaming as she threw her hands into the air.

"Oh wow! That's great!" Phoebe gave her yet another hug, this time with more enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I mean, I told Joanna that I was quitting, and bam!" She slammed her fist into her hand. "She offers me the position!" Throwing her arms into the air once more, Rachel hugged Phoebe yet again, even tighter this time. This was certainly a good reason for the day to brighten.

"Wow! I guess threats _can_ go a long way." Phoebe was filled with glee, as they both laughed at the sentiment.

"Yeah, I was just gonna go and tell Ross." Rachel pointed towards the room she just exited, curiously. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, well, everyone's in there, so I gotta keep Monica company." She gestured towards Monica's room, matter-of-factly.

"Oh! Okay, I'll go with you then." Rachel clapped, like it was the carnival or something. She didn't realize what had happened last night; while _she_ was with Ross, Chandler went straight home, and locked himself in, before coming right back to the hospital this morning. She went home as well, but didn't bother checking up on him.

_Not the best idea. _

"What about Ross?" Phoebe asked, surprised.

"He can wait. I miss our little girl talks, ya know?"

"Well, come on then!"

She took Rachel by her hand, and headed off for Monica's room.

_You said we can get through anything.  
>Don't give up, Mon.<br>We love you._

_-Rachel_

Monica stared at the words written on her bathroom mirror, more tears welling up. She was the happiest girl in the world. She had friends who loved her, who _cared_ for her. In the end, that was all that mattered. She could get a new job. She could get a boyfriend. But her friends? Irreplaceable. Monica was willing to throw them away, out of what? Jealousy? Envy? It was a foolish endeavor, just because Ross has everything and she doesn't?

_That's the luck of the draw. _

And she was dealt a crappy hand.

_Such is life. _

As she left the bathroom, a very concerned Rachel and Phoebe rushed over to her.

"Monica! What the hell do you think your doing?"

"...Just went to pee." She struggled as she sat back down on her bed, resisting their attempt to help. She could do anything by herself, but sadly, the numbing pain in her arm kept her friends close by; little did they know the pain in her head.

Rachel and Phoebe glanced at each other, wishing that she would have asked them for help.

"You should've let us help you." Phoebe placed a hand on Monica's shoulder, trying to show empathy.

"I'm fine, okay? It's just my arm." Monica pointed to her wound, which had barely healed.

They both knew it was much more than that, but it was futile to protest.

"Thanks, Rach." Monica looked at her best friend, happily, for the first time in days.

She responded with an unknowing look.

Monica nudged her head toward the bathroom, her eyes watering. She smiled, and took her best friend's hand, squeezing it gently. She knew that if Chandler wouldn't make a move, then she would. Just had to figure out the when and where, and everything would be alright. Monica had her friends; therefore, she had everything she needed. Life was worth living.

If not for Chandler, for herself.

_Everything would be__ okay_.

"Honey?"

Rachel now sat with Ross in his bed, cuddling, as they tried falling asleep in each other's arms. Despite the pain, Ross knew it was worth it. To hold the woman he loves, keeping her safe from harm, the feeling was unequal. He felt like he had a purpose again. Softly, he whispered back to her.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you think Monica and Chandler will get together?" Her tone, filled with skepticism, pierced the fabric of his mind. Ross thought, long and hard, that Chandler and Monica were quite the unexpected couple; but, they would be a good one. They were close enough to know about each other's habits, personality, and feelings, but not too close as to cause a rift in the gate of friendship.

"I don't know. I hope so. I mean, he loves her, and she has feelings for him too. It's gotta happen."

Rachel nodded, and stared at the wall.

"You know what Chandler said to me?" Ross broke the silence, looking down at her.

"What?"

"He wants what _we_ have. He wants that 'connection' with someone."

"...Monica?"

"Apparently, any woman. Guess it's more of a 'love the one your with' thing."

At that point, Rachel debated on whether talking to Ross about him cheating on her. Sure, she wanted it was in the past. But, the past lingers. Without proper care, it will control the actions of the present, breeding an endless cycle of mistakes. Was it worth it to go down the road so soon?

Maybe, maybe not.

_It wouldn't hurt to wait, Rachel. _

So, she laid her head upon Ross's chest, wondering what destiny held for the group. His beating heart was her own personal metronome, as he wrapped his arms around his beautiful and perfect girlfriend. Everything they went through, together, ringed through their heads. Not only did they have to face their past, they had to help their friends face their future.

"I love you, Rachel." His voice was the softest silk, as his breath touched her ear.

Dozing off into a peaceful slumber, she mumbled incoherently; which he took as 'I love you too'.


	24. Chapter 24: My Addiction

_-One week later-__  
><em>

The couch had to have been the most comfortable thing he had ever sat in. It was a lustrous and creamy white, with cushions that pulled him into a deep sinking, of which felt softer than the Queen's mattress (not that he'd know). The stucco walls were illuminated brightly against the sunlight; something that Ross hadn't seen in a long time. He also hadn't seen those damned fluorescent lights, of which caused a buzzing that made him want to beat himself over the head. He had finally escaped, and now the sights and sounds of Mother Nature were returning to him. The dull gray of the hospital wrecked his memory; stealing from him the images of a forest, or a mountain, and replacing it with the darkness and the constant beeping of the various machines that kept him alive.

But, Ross was now free from that hell.

Several days ago, he was admitted to a rehabilitation center in Westchester, where would learn to walk again.

Despite her protests, Ross insisted Rachel not stay with him; he had to do this by himself, at his own pace. As much as he loved her, he had to face these trials alone, otherwise he could never look at himself as a man.

She still visited every night.

He was thankful, for that. He couldn't ask for anyone better to support him than Rachel. No matter what the cost, she would always be there for him. It was a blessing, for someone as beautiful, talented, smart, and caring to be there, at his side.

Behind every great man is a great woman.

So, as he gripped himself onto the aluminum bar placed in front of him, Ross used most of his strength getting out of the trap of the couch. It was numbing. He could barely feel anything below his waist, as he held onto the walker for dear life. Two orderlies managed to keep him steady, as he slowly trudged his way towards the wall. It was exhausting, and his arms had trouble holding the rest of him up. His eyes were focused on his ashen knuckles bracing the cold and lightweight metal, each step becoming harder and harder.

One foot from his milestone, he collapsed.

_Damnit! So close..._

With a little help, Ross went back to the couch, defeated.

_One more time... _

_Just one more time... _

"Mr. Geller, maybe we can try again later. You _just_ woke up." The young man quietly tried to dissuade Ross from foolishly pushing himself beyond his limit; he obviously did not know him very well. Offended, Ross lashed back at him, his voice raising slightly, scaring both him and the female nurse.

"I'm **_fine_**. Just give me a couple minutes, will ya?"

They took the hint, and promptly left him alone.

Perhaps it was a bad idea to send the nurses out; Ross's bed looked comfortable. A major step-up from the half-gurney he slept in back at the hospital. It was surprising that he didn't succumb to any bedsores, despite the immense pain from laying there the entire time.

But this time, his bed was actually a _bed_. Complete with his own television and everything, it was like being in a hotel, but with servants and free food.

However, he was missing something: Rachel.

Ah, Rachel. The Apple to his Eden. The sword to his scabbard. The weave of the silken dress that shines in the moonlight as a million doves fly from below the cliff, roses hidden under their wings. The final piece of the puzzle that was his life. He could see her now, staring into him with her viridian eyes, her glossy strawberry-scented lips ever so close to his. Ecstasy and bliss were one as they collided, love being the force behind them. He loved her. More than anything.

_Rachel, will you marry me?_

No, not yet.

They had things to sort out before they could embark on a journey of that magnitude.

Things that would haunt them forever.

Ross still hated himself. He never wanted to _cheat_ on Rachel. And whether they were actually on a break or not is completely irrelevant; it was wrong. It was stupid. He didn't understand what possessed him to do something so atrocious. He didn't deserve her before that, and he definitely didn't deserve her now. What did Rachel still _see_ in him? Ross was but a broken shell of what he once was, crawling through the mud of life, trying to profess his undying love.

But did she really return it?

As he looked into the hallway through the clear glass walls, his mind wandered to daydreaming.

If Ross _was_ going to propose to her, he had already planned it all out: The Planetarium, filled with lilies, her favorite flower, with _The Way You Look Tonight_ by Fred Astaire playing on the sound system. The only question was, would she say yes? After all they had been through, the future was hard to imagine.

But Ross did know one thing: If he had a future,he would do everything in his power for it to be with Rachel.

No matter what.

The door to his room swung open, breaking him from his thought, and a short, asian woman smiled at him.

"Mr. Geller, you have a visitor."

She held the door open, and motioned for whomever was visiting to walk in. To his surprise, it was Joey. It was great to finally have someone besides strangers in white scrubs talking to him, despite their helpful and kind demeanor. He really did miss his friends, and, even though they periodically visited him, he wished they would all come, and hang out together.

_Just like old times. _

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"Nothin' much, other than I got an audition in an hour, so I thought I'd come by and say hey." Joey sat in the chair across from him, laying back into it's comforting arms. He sighed in bliss, which Ross took great pleasure in watching.

"Cool. What's the part?"

"I play a _baggage handler_ in the year 2194." Joey placed his hand on his chest in a pretentious manner.

"Huh. Already sounds like a hit." Ross chuckled.

They shared a hearty laugh, before Joey put his feet up on the coffee table and his hands behind his head. His eyes wandered to the hallway as a tall, blonde nurse with horn-rimmed glasses traipsed by, holding a clipboard. Joey's eye's widened, as he leaned forward to follow her. As she turned the corner, he whispered to an uncaring Ross.

"Jeez, Ross, still can't believe how good you've got it here. I mean, those nurses- wow! Almost makes me wanna get shot."

"First of all, Joe, that's stupid. Second, they're off limits. I don't need anyone telling me if this," He imitated a syringe entering his throat. "feels good, just because you slept with a nurse and never called her back!" Ross joked around with him at first. but in all seriousness, he decided that it would just be better off that way.

"Aww, come on!" He showed his puppy-dog face as he placed his hands together, begging for permission.

"Thems the breaks, Joe." Ross smiled, denying Joey's greatest wish.

"Alright, alright. You've got satellite TV, right? You got porn?" Joey inquired, his face seeming as if it were no big deal to ask something like that. Apparently, he had forgotten the traumatic events from when the two of watched porn together last time.

"Joey, I'm not watching porn with you again. I still have nightmares." Ross stated, somewhat scared.

"Oh, come on! It wasn't that bad-" He was cut off.

"We said we'd never speak of it!" He shouted, wanting to block the memory of that day.

"Fine, calm down. See? Cartoons." Joey flicked the remote, and Tom and Jerry came on.

"That's better." Ross said, relieved. He turned his eyes to the screen,

They watched for a while, laughing at the slapstick. It wasn't until minutes later that Joey realized that he was the only one watching. As he turned around, he saw Ross giving off a thousand-yard stare. To shake him out of it, Joey moved his hand in front of his face.

"Dude, you alright?"

"...Uh, yeah, sorry." Ross shook his head, disoriented.

"What were you thinking about?" Joey asked, concerned for his friend.

"Rachel." It was a soft word, with what seemed to be sadness lingering within.

"_Aww_... What about her?" His voice was squeaky, happy that Ross was thinking about Rachel.

_How cute. _

"How unbelievably stupid she must be." His voice was grave, and deadpan.

"What? What are you talking about?" Joey looked at him like he had just murdered somebody.

"I cheated on her, Joey!" Ross yelled at him, unable to contain his emotion for much longer.

"What?" Joey was still confused.

"You remember..." He moved his hand in a rolling gesture.

"Oh. Wait, weren't you guys already broken up?"

"Don't get me started."

Joey nodded and looked down at the carpet, before Ross spoke again.

"How can she just forgive me like that?" He asked Joey and himself.

"Dude, she _loves_ you." He put his hand on Ross's arm, trying to snap him out of his funk.

"Still. I mean, she acts like it never happened."

"Maybe it's better off that way?" Joey stated, trying to make him forget.

"No, it isn't. I need to talk to her about it." Stalwart, Ross decided he would be the first one to take action.

"Ross, come on, all that's gonna do is bring back bad memories."

"It doesn't matter, Joey. You can't just keep things inside like that."

That was true.

"Yes you can! Solves problems everywhere!"

"I love her too much, Joey, and I'm going to fix this. Even if I fail, I can at least say that I _**tried**_." Ross stood strong in decision, ready to pounce like a panther. He knew that failing was better than not trying at all, and love was no exception.

"...Does this place have a cafeteria?" Joey asked, after casually sniffing the air.

"W-What?" Ross, taken aback by the sudden change of the subject, stuttered.

"I smell food. Where is it, Ross?" Joey put his hands on Ross's shoulder's like it was the last thing that kept him alive.

"Okay, calm down. There's food in the fridge." He disarmed his friend and pointed towards the fridge behind them.

"Oh, man. Give me a gun. I wanna get some of _this_." Joey stated, as he didn't even bother to close the fridge as he pulled out leftovers.

Ross sighed, amused by Joey's antics. They watched and they ate, but there was only one thing on Ross's mind; something that was better than any amount of food, satellite television, or sexy nurses who wear skirts that stop at mid-thigh: Rachel.

The more and more he thought about her, the more emotion was brought forth from his heart. The dream he had about her, especially, made him happy and sad at the same time. He pondered on what it exactly meant; the ice, the feathers, all of it barely made sense.

If only he had wings; he would fly to her.

_I love you, Rachel. _

_I love you more than life itself. _

What he wouldn't do, to be in her bosom, telling her how beautiful she was. To say how special and lucky he is, simply because of her. To stroke her hair, giving him life as he smelled it's aroma. To hold her, embrace her, and love her forever.

To say that he wanted to be her hero. Her guardian. Her savior.

_Rachel Green._

_Rachel Geller. _

_Both sound perfect. _

"Hey, Joe, hand me the phone will ya?" Ross said, as Joey was about to stuff a chicken wing into his mouth.

"Yeah, 'kay." His mouth was stuffed as his greasy fingers picked up the phone and handed it to a somewhat sick Ross, who then dialed it, cautiously avoiding any Joey parasites. The ringing made him more and more anxious, but was half-thankful that her voicemail picked up.

"This is Ms. Green, Bloomingdale's. I am currently not at my desk, please leave a message and number."

"Uh, it's me. I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here. Bye." Ross was unsure of how to leave his message of love, so he just said the gist.

He promptly hung up, and looked at Joey, who was now beaming from the cute gesture Ross had done. Trying not to smile, Ross gave him a sweet 'What?', only to break down, and grinning like Rachel was still his high-school crush who had just said hello to him. Ross saw this as a sign of weakness, and would excuse himself to the restroom, if his plans hadn't been halted by the loss of his legs.

_Such is life. _

So, they talked, shared stories, and laughed, until Joey had to leave. They gave each other a brotherly hug, knowing that things were finally getting better, for everybody.

He shifted himself around, until he could look out the window. The Manhattan Skyline looked so distant, but so close at the same time. He knew, somewhere within that crowd of towering metal and glass, lay his beloved, waiting for him to come back.

As the thought of Rachel entered his mind, Ross saw something fall in his view.

A single white feather.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Props to you if you can tell me where Joey's part is from. ;)<strong>


	25. Chapter 25: Treatment

**AN: There is suggestive sexual content in this chapter.  
>You've been warned.<strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>The tears stung.<p>

They also healed.

Rachel pressed play one more time, her finger softly caressing the button as if it were Ross's cheek.

_"Uh, it's me. I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here. Bye." _

It heated up her very soul. Not since he had first been admitted to rehab, did Ross leave her a message. And to come back from the most _boring_ meeting in the world to hear his soft, yet deep voice, melted her. She cherished each word, as if they were his final.

Rachel had never been happier.

Wiping the tears away, she looked around the room - her office.

Although it was smaller than Joanna's, it was absolutely perfect. The walls were white, like a dove soaring through the clouds. They weren't the hard and crusty drywall she was used to, either; they actually gave some ambiance to the room. Abstract paintings lined the walls, with splashes of orange, blue, and green made it look bigger than it actually was. Her chair was 100% leather, with no armrests - just how she wanted it. Her desk; her _beautiful_ varnished walnut desk that was littered with pictures of her friends, and a vase filled with roses, sent by none other than Ross, sat in the corner, her laptop sitting in the center.

A smaller workload, and some actual motivation to do her work.

And, it was Friday.

The clock, which read 6:35 p.m., glowed in the corner of her eye. Rachel decided that it the sooner she went to visit Ross, the better. She picked up the photo of her and Ben, and smiled, her expression warm with sentiment. Gently, she pressed the small button on the lower left of her phone receiver.

"Yes?" The voice on the other end was sweet and cheery.

"Sophie, I'm taking off." She stated, wearily.

"Okay, just let me print off your weekly report." Sophie replied, typing furiously.

Rachel released the buzzer, stood up, and began packing her various folders and papers into her bag. She skimmed the office once more, still at awe at how good it looked, that it was _hers_, and threw her bag over her shoulder and walked out.

Beaming, Sophie handed her a several stapled pieces of paper.

"Have a good weekend!"

"You, too."

Rachel stepped past her as she grabbed the report, and walked over to the elevators. A great advantage of being an Assistant Buyer was that she was on the opposite end of the floor that Joanna was on, therefore Rachel didn't see that _witch_ as much. She was simply faxed whenever she needed something done, which Rachel would simply fax back.

_This was the life. _

However, the real fun started after work. Every day since he was admitted, Rachel would visit Ross when she left work, telling him about how much she loved her job, and the various perks it now had. They would talk, laugh, and love like they were still teenagers, and it was perfect. They were in love all over again.

Things were finally getting better, even if by only a little.

So, as she stepped out of the elevator, Rachel happily skipped her way outside, where she flagged down a cab.

Ross was reading a magazine - National Geographic, specifically - when he heard a tap on the glass door. As he did glanced up, his heart immediately brightened up. He didn't motion for Rachel to come in, like usual, but instead halted her at the other side of the door. To her surprise, he threw his legs to the floor, and stood up, grunting. Gripping his walker, writhing in pain (but doing a somewhat good job of hiding it), Ross slowly but surely trekked it to the door, where the object of his dreams awaited.

Slowly, he reached over to the door handle, and, using the last of his strength, pulled it open.

"Honey, I'm so proud of you!" She hugged Ross, happy that he overcame his limits.

"N... N-Nurse.." Ross groaned, his entire body shaking under his own weight.

"What?" Rachel pulled away, concerned.

"G-Get a nurse!" He yelled at her, near collapse.

"Oh! Uh, okay, hang on!" She ran and got a nurse who just rounded the corner, who, after helping support Ross, moved him over to the couch.

He laid, proud of himself that he made it as far as he did, although ashamed that Rachel had saw him so weak. This was the third time she had to watch him struggle, and, in all honesty, it hurt him much more than it hurt her, despite what she may have said.

Rachel gently petted his hair, smiling at the man she loved - and how far he had come. She remembered the first time he had attempted to walk to her; he crashed into the coffee table the second he lifted himself off of the couch. A few tries later, he tripped over the rug. No matter how much she wanted to help him, Ross insisted that he was fine. This time, he made it. He actually made it.

Perhaps a kiss would have kept him afloat.

As he flipped through the pages, Ross noticed that the pain in his legs dulled more and more with each touch Rachel had gifted him with. He slowly closed the magazine, and set it on his lap, as he tilted his head back to look into her longing eyes. The way her cinnamon hair hovered just above his nose, where he could smell, but not touch, drove him mad. Her eyes, which shimmered under the soft glow of the overhead lamp, stared right back into his soul. Her breath bandaged it's way to his heart, fixing the turmoil that had taken him over so long.

_Ross and Rachel. _

The words rung in his head, syncing with his brain waves. It was a perfect sound; a perfect phrase. Like angels they were, cascading down to save the ones who had been forsaken by Cupid. An excellent - no, _perfect_ example of love.

They were alone. That's how they liked it. Almost 9 o'clock, and they simply held each other for hours, cradling themselves, aloft with their own heat.

Rachel remembered how they used to do this, almost all of the time. She looked into his milky chocolate eyes, and saw herself, radiant from his gaze. Ross had the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen; they were incomparable to anything else, the way they shined in the sun, or the moon.

Within her chimera, she debated on talking to him about his infidelity; she had put it off for a while, having been concerned with other things, but every moment seemed like the perfect moment. However, if she brought it up, she would almost certainly slip that Mark kissed her; this would only make Ross angry, and would almost justify him sleeping with that slut.

At least to him, anyway.

_It wasn't worth it. _

That was all Rachel needed to keep telling herself.

No matter how hard it gnawed at her, she would have to keep quiet.

Gluing her porcelain lips together, Rachel smiled at him, to which he smiled back; that smile that could melt a block of ice within seconds. Every passing second they leered at each other, Rachel began squirming, and it soon became apparent that she wanted him - badly. At first, it was as simple as crossing one leg over the other; but as time past on, she had a dire need to release her carnal desires.

Quickly, she refused her urges; Ross was in no condition to have sex.

Grudgingly, it went away, after thinking about various nasty things, like Chandler showering. It wasn't until the last of it left that she realized that her and Ross were still staring at each other. Hoping to distract him from whatever he may be thinking, Rachel leaned down and gently kissed him, her lips freshly balmed with the scent of strawberries, which she had put on prior to arriving. It felt so warm against the cold air that encircled them, waiting to penetrate their layer of heat.

Surprisingly, Ross whispered into her ear, his voice tender and amorous.

"You wanna go to bed?"

She pulled away, blinking rapidly. "W-What? Really?" Rachel was completely caught off guard. As she grinned, blood flushed her cheeks, as if he read her mind. All of her needs came rushing back, like a schoolgirl brimming to the edge with hormones.

"Yeah. I can't sleep on this couch." He stated, reaching his arm behind him to fluff small pillow.

Her heart skipped a beat. "O-Oh. Alright." She managed to stutter, having been shot down by a million missiles.

With that, Ross wearily stood up, using his walker for support, as Rachel apathetically stood up behind him, and slowly stepped ahead to hold the door open to his room. He trudged inside, dropping himself onto the bed, hands first. It was the better than the floor, on every occasion. Rachel came behind, making sure he wasn't hurt, and sat on the bed next to him.

She placed his hand on his arm, and looked at him briefly before kissing him again, her blood pumping through her body. Rachel hadn't been this brazen in weeks, having been occupied with so much. But now, she didn't have so much work, it was Friday night, and she was alone with the man she loved.

The question was, would Ross go for it?

Rachel knew that he had _some_ feeling in his legs, and, if they had sex, he would probably gain a lot more. It was becoming quite the experiment, even though it was only in her head. Ross had a word for that, what was it? Hypothesis? Either way, she decided to act on her animal instinct, but first, they had to get much more comfortable.

Again, they kissed, this time with more passion. It was remarkable, how good it felt; the way their hearts were thrown about, in the wild heat of love. It was like a dream, being with someone who loved you as much or more as you loved them.

_The meaning of life. _

To be happy.

As their lips touched, the world stopped. They were shut out into a dimension of their own creation, subtle yet dignified. A swirl of blue and green nebulae fell to every direction, as they lost themselves in the deep reaches of space. The words that echoed, sending shockwaves through the vacuum, rocked their brains.

_Ross and Rachel. _

They never wanted to pull away. Rachel had forgotten what she was even trying to do, since her heart was lost within Ross's embrace. It was a curse, whenever they held each other, that she would forget everything, which led to a poor work average and dishes left undone. But it was worth it. To feel his touch on her, drove her insane. Ross had a special way of making her heart thump through her chest, soaring into the clouds.

They crawled into the confines of the sheets, which were blue like the ocean, and snuggled against each other. It was warm, and every single time that they looked at each other, her skin crawled. It was unbelievable, at times. To have a man who loved her so much, who'd die for her a million times over, was surreal. No matter how many times Rachel ran it through her head, it would not register.

Her mother had always told her that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Yet, this was not the case.

Her knight in shining armor, her prince, her savior, was only a kiss away.

"Make love to me." It came out without her permission. The moment had gotten to her, and they were more than ready. It had been two weeks since they had made love, and it became overwhelming. Since that night, Rachel never expected to become one with Ross again.

Now, she had her chance.

"Huh?" He moaned, her lips crushing against his.

"You heard me." She moaned back, before pulling away briefly. Rachel smiled, coyly, as she leaned into his ear, whispering the words that would drive any man insane. This time, she meant it. Besides, it was going to happen sooner or later. "Make love to me, Ross."

"Uh, um -" Shockingly, he was cut off, by her warm and loving finger on his lips.

"Don't talk, just do it." Her voice was now that of a seductress catching her prey. Without a single thought, she guided herself to his lips once more. Rachel heard a low mumble, which she immediately took as an 'I love you', but did not pay much attention towards, as there was something much better than words to express their love right around the corner.

In the symphony of the night, sheets were rustled and tossed about.

Rachel cackled, her body being the best medicine for Ross.


	26. Chapter 26: The Plan and The Misfortune

**AN: This story was practically screaming at me to name the chapters, so I did just that. **  
><strong>Please, please, leave reviews. I really appreciate it. <strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Jay Leno.<em>

That's who that looked like.

_Time to die, Jay._

Like a woodpecker, Phoebe stabbed her fork into the scrambled egg, disturbing the silence at the table. The clanking of the tines against the ceramic made the most outlandish sound; like nails on a chalkboard. Her expression of false fury got a smile out of Monica, who mindlessly twirled her food around her plate. After realizing that she was only slowly breaking Monica's silverware and fine china, she shot her an 'I'm sorry' smile, before resuming to eat.

The tense calm that followed made Phoebe want to plunge the fork into herself.

Even though she had cooked meals for everybody during the week, Monica never ate any herself.

Initially, things between Monica and Chandler were weird; they would not so much look at each other, let alone speak. The day she was released, her doctor had signed her up to see a psychiatrist, since no one could get any answers as to why she'd hurt herself like that, despite the rest of the group having a pretty solid idea.

She refused to talk to anyone, about anything.

Whenever someone would come over, be it Joey, or Phoebe, or even her parents (as Rachel already lived there), she would cook a glorious meal and shroud the room with music and television, a plastic smile on her face. Monica went to great lengths to appease her friends, just so they wouldn't ask what was wrong.

When they did, she'd simply nod and tell them she was fine.

It would always be a lie.

And when the three of them rallied to confront her, she _said_ that she didn't have anything in particular to do that day, and yet she was nowhere to be found. An elaborate plan to escape was made in less than five minutes, and Monica pulled it off without a hitch. When she said she'd be in the apartment all day, she was actually at her parent's house, living it up Long Island-style, where her parents were much more gullible than her friends.

All of this to avoid them.

She had it rough.

But Chandler, poor Chandler, had it much, much rougher. He wouldn't even come out of his room. When anyone tried to cheer him up, he'd turn them away with secrecy; even Joey. Things between them were awkward, to say the least. Phoebe had coerced Monica to try and talk to him the other day, but that proved futile; seconds after they started walking back, Phoebe could swear that she heard crying.

It was so stupid. Why couldn't they work this out? Ross and Rachel did, why couldn't they?

The questions ran through her mind as she subconsciously poked the slice of ham on the side of her plate, before setting down her fork and looking at Monica. Still, she played with her food; even though she had cooked a full platter for herself, it would not be dented one bit. Usually, Phoebe saved her meals for Joey; that way, they wouldn't go to waste. But as she looked at her friend, Phoebe couldn't help but wonder what went through her disillusioned mind.

Maybe, it was time to find out.

"So, your first session's tonight, huh?" She needed to ease into the hole, but she didn't realize until later how dirty that sounded. Regardless, it was true. Their was nothing to be gained from brute force; this was proven time and time again by the dozens of attempts by the group to steal Monica's vacuum. She literally _kicked_ all of their asses.

But this time, Monica just nodded, her face brittle as she bit off a piece of sausage.

"Okay," Phoebe placed her hands on the table, like she just had an epiphany. "Just remember, he - wait, is it a he or a she?" It was better to gain an understanding of the little things; they were what counted most, especially in a volatile situation like this.

"She." Monica rebuttled, her voice deadpan.

"Yeah, okay. Just tell the truth, alright? You can't tell her anything she hasn't heard before." Phoebe never had much experience with therapy, but it was better not to hold anything back. These people were paid to help her; and paid even more to solve her problems completely. As much as she hated corporate drones, this was for the best.

"I know." Her voice became even softer.

"Okay."

And yet another silent breakfast followed. It was shame, really, that Monica couldn't tell her best friends what she was thinking. No matter how much of a toll it took on her, it would have to wait. There were so many things running through her head, that she began to become paranoid.

So, Phoebe devised a plan; one that would help everybody.

Somehow, _somehow_, they would have to get Monica and Chandler paired up - by chance or by will; hopefully it wouldn't come down to them forcing it upon each other. The fact remained, however, that they were _in love_, and, theoretically, there was nothing stopping them but their own fears.

So, she finished her meal, and set her plate in the sink, listlessly washing it, as her mind formulated ways to bring the two of them together.

Meanwhile, Joey was busy wrapping a blanket around his fallen friend. His body looked so frail; so broken, much like Ross's was after the accident. The difference was that Chandler was without the love that Rachel had given Ross; he didn't have anybody who could give him that.

Not yet, anyway.

"Hey, buddy. You awake?" He tucked in the dark orange quilt under Chandler, who's face was buried into the old pillow. Joey sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on his best friend's arm, watching for any signs of life. Thankfully, he heard a hushed mumbling, and he sighed with relief.

"Yeah."

"Just, uh, makin' sure you're not cold." He patted Chandler mildly on the arm, having a feeling that if he did it any harder, he would break him. It was almost scary, seeing Chandler like this. He was always the joker, the optimist, the guy who could turn any awkward situation into a laugh-fest. But, all he did was mumble even louder, with hopes to be heard.

"Thanks."

Joey nodded, and quietly left the room, but not before taking one last, pitiful look at Chandler.

The green door to apartment 19 swung open, and Phoebe stood up to hug Joey. They held each other tightly, seeking comfort in this whirlwind of doubt. For so long it seemed like nothing would ever go back to normal. It wasn't until after they saw Ross struggling to walk, did they finally see it.

They had to work for it.

And now, that was exactly what was going to happen.

When they pulled away from each other, it was decided that it would be best to get out of the apartment, for two purposes: To successfully create a cunning scheme in which to bring Chandler and Monica together, and to leave the two of them alone, so that maybe, _maybe_, they would find comfort in each other so much that a strategy was not needed.

They separately waved goodbye to Monica, hoping that her and Chandler would think that someone else was with the other, so that they might go over since their would be someone else to relieve the strain; this would be untrue. They would be alone together, and whatever happens, happens.

They said they would go to the coffeehouse. That was only partly true; it was only stop numero uno on their journey.

The both of them knew it was impossible to bring the lovesick duo together alone. They needed help. They needed guidance. So, as they sipped their coffee in questionable peace, several names popped into their head, but none were more clear than two.

_Ross and Rachel. _

Who better to help bring two people together than the fabled Lobsters?

"Ross and Rachel!" Both of them shot out in unison.

Hurriedly, they finished their coffee, and Joey ordered a scone to-go. They rushed out of Central Perk, almost blowing the doors off of their hinges. Piling into Phoebe's cab, the two were already creating the plan, which would undoubtedly create the greatest flux of love in the universe.

Even though Rachel forbid it, Monica insisted that she clean her room while she was away, on the fact that a 'clean home' is a 'happy home'. In light of this, however, Rachel's room was the dirtiest in the apartment (according to Monica's standards) and cleaning helped take her mind off of things, like the man across the hall who breathed her name into his pillow. But what really made her angry was that she needed to see a therapist. There was nothing wrong with her, and she would tell her friends why she almost killed herself - _in time_. That was all that she needed. Time. But no, they had to get right into the action, not even giving a second look to what _she_ wanted.

However, it was about time she got used to that. Monica hasn't gotten what she wanted her entire life; her parents definitely made sure of that.

And every time she even thought about how good Ross and Rachel looked together, it made her want to puke. They were so happy it was disgusting. Also, he **_cheated_ **on her, and yet, she still wanted to be with him. None of it made any sense.

_Love is a cruel mistress. _

Trying to forget the pain, she mindlessly dug through a stack of old photo albums, but stopped as her eye caught several yellow papers sticking out under the cover of an album titled 'Ross'.

Slipping it from its confines, the loosely-sketched drawing almost amazed her. Who drew this? Ross? Rachel? Phoebe? Monica didn't know anyone who could draw lines, let alone this good. Even if it was not the best she had seen, the shading and detail were magnificent, and whatever symbolism she could take from it was hypnotizing. Tracing her finger along the lines of the glorious wings that sprouted from the back of the man in the picture, Monica wondered what this meant, and why Rachel would have something like it.

Her mind wandered, and she flipped the page over to see if there was something on the back, but sadly, there wasn't. As she placed the paper under the first on top, something else caught her attention. It was a couple, Ross and Rachel, Monica assumed, staring at her. Their eyes were so grotesque, but so beautiful at the same time. Their long eyelashes seemed to move under the soft lamplight, and their smiles nearly oozed love.

Monica gently folded the pictures and kept them for later; for what, she did not know.

As she finished tidying up, setting fresh golden sheets on Rachel's bed, Monica quickly adjusted the picture frame of the oil painting over her bed so that it was perfectly straight. The final touch was fresh potpourri on her dresser, which would be a welcome surprise from when she came back from Ross's (if she ever did).

Her cleaning finally done, Monica laid down on the couch, hoping to have a catnap before therapy tonight.

Little did she know, the object of her desires stood in the doorway, his eyes darkened and sagging like a mourner's robe. Faintly, as not to disturb her, Chandler slowly tiptoed around the couch, and sat in the chair next to it, his body weak from days of sleeping. As he clasped his hands together, he looked at Monica's sleeping figure.

She was so beautiful.

No matter how much she looked like Ross, in her own way, she was an angel. Her raven hair sat neatly against the cushion, shining like glass. the way the corners of her lips tugged upwards to form a cute smile drove him mad. At times, he pictured himself with her; walking on the beach, talking on the balcony, or leaving out fake meat to trick Joey.

It felt right.

But he could never obtain that, not when he caused her so much pain.

A dream, that held so many promises. And, in a dream, any promise will be upheld until the end of time. But it was here, in reality, where everything was broken, and nothing was forever. Looking into her closed eyes, Chandler saw her, battered and bruised, wishing he could take her suffering away.

He could. The only thing that stopped him was himself.

The tires screeched, as Phoebe drove like a maniac, swerving through traffic and multiple parking lots. She had managed to avoid the police, thanks to her 'foresight', but angry drivers were another matter. Thankfully, they weren't armed with bricks like they were in the driver instructional video she had to watch a million times. As they pulled in front of the doors to Northern Westchester Hospital, they noticed a police car parked directly ahead of them, where Phoebe touched the brake for the first time since they left.

It was a folly, however, as no officers were inside.

So, they stepped out, and made a beeline for Ross's room.

Much like when the psychic told them that Monica had woken up, the elevator seemed to take forever, which only served to anger the two. Their salvation of the group was so close, but so far. Joey closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, the doors would be asunder. They were, thankfully. .

As they stepped out of the elevator, as fast as the wind rushed to them, two police officers disappeared into the one right next to them. Although this baffled them a bit, it did nothing more. Perhaps it was better that way, as when they reached Ross's room, the scene shocked them.

Ross sat on the couch, staring at the wall. His blank expression told them both that his emotions were locked in a battle royale. His mouth lay open, his jaw almost hitting the floor. Rachel had her arms wrapped in a death grip around him, as if her life and the lives of her friends depended on it.

Slowly, Joey and Phoebe stepped in, but it seemed that Ross and Rachel didn't even notice, let alone care.

"Ross?" Phoebe said, deliberately taking small steps over to him, tilting her body to get a better look. But there was nothing. Ross didn't move. His eyes didn't even look away from the lemon-lime colored wall in front of him. Rachel, however, took her arms off of him, and solemnly faced her friends.

"What happened?" Joey asked, to himself mostly. But since he was looking at Rachel, she tried to come up with a suitable answer. Needing more time, she left her beloved in awe and took the duo aside, trying to breathe, as it became apparent that she was holding back tears.

"That, uh, guy, who, um, shot Ross?" She struggled to speak, her chest heaving to and fro. They had all but forgotten about Ross's mugger, but all of a sudden he was pushed back into their lives like an old flame, except worse. They were so close to letting it all go, but fate would not let them.

"Wha - Yeah? What happened?" Phoebe asked, a look of confusion plastered on her face. She stepped forward to console Rachel, who seemed to be shaking in her boots, ready to fall to the ground. Joey crossed his arms, surprised to hear about this; he too had nearly forgotten about it.

"He... killed himself."

Like a cardinal to heaven above, she dropped to her knees.


	27. Chapter 27: Three Pairs

The night screeched back, vengeance gripped in its fateful hand.

Every little detail haunted him, drifting throughout the confines of his mind. The thing about _repressed _memories; they're supposed to stay locked up and never found again, unable to reached by anything other than the Grim Reaper's scythe. Unfortunately, fate would not be so kind to Ross, or to Rachel, for that matter.

Anything - absolutely _anything_ - that dared to remind them of that night brought them into tears; Rachel more than Ross, but when they had heard the full story of the mugger's death - how he held his own son, _**Ben** _- hostage in his apartment, and how he pulled the trigger on himself while his son watched, they didn't want to believe it.

Ross didn't. At all. Rachel did.

While he sat in shock, she cried at the very thought.

But, it was true. No matter how hard he tried, Ross couldn't shake the image: Ben, _Ross's_ Ben, being in a situation like that, watching his father blow his brains out, while at the same time having high-powered assault rifles pointed at him by pseudo-soldiers. It was only right for that bastard to have a son named Ben, too; it would go perfectly well with the rest of Ross's suffering.

Then, came Rachel. She wasn't particularly happy or sad that, as Phoebe would put it, 'justice has been done'. Death was not welcome to her world, be it justified or not. Her brain riddled with the fact that an innocent child was not only an orphan, but now a traumatized orphan.

No child deserved that.

Not only could she not shake the image of Ross's son having blood spattered on him like that, but she pictured herself - as his mother, and Ross's wife - hearing about this, seeing it replay over and over in the dark theater of her own mind. It needed to be a dream, ever-so-badly, but it could not.

So, she cried, hoping it would be forgotten in those moments.

Meanwhile, Ross's eyes began focusing, slowly bringing him back to reality. Although he was still quite astray, he managed to turn his head, and register that his beloved was on the floor, crying, tears flowing down her 'borrowed' medical gown. It was painful. He literally hated every single salty tear that trickled from her beautiful, glistening eyes. As he tried forming words, the will of love managed to say what he could not.

"G-Give her to me."

With that, Joey and Phoebe motioned Rachel's weeping body over to Ross, where he took her into his lap, cradling her like a small child. Despite his immense shock and awe, and the fact that he could still barely realize _why_ she was crying, he quietly whispered into her ear the things that would calm the most raging bull.

"It's okay, Rach. Don't cry."

"I don't get it... This is a good thing! That son-of-a-bitch got what he deserved!" Joey intruded, his voice stern.

Ross and Phoebe instantly shot him a dirty look, promptly discouraging any more remarks. The circumstances didn't matter anymore; the only thing that did was calming Rachel down, as, like for many years now, she was his first priority. He rubbed her back, telling her it will be okay. Soon, she quieted her sobs, regaining much needed composure.

Softly, with grace, Ross told the rest of the story to Joey and Phoebe, giving Rachel a tight squeeze, reassuring her that everything will be okay. Despite being more than skeptical, the touch of the man she loved managed to keep her feeling safe and secure; something she needed for a long time, being the one to give others the same. As they finally began to understand the reason behind her crying, the two of them looked at each other, finding solace in the now peaceful room. Reflecting on the events of the past two weeks, they knew what was important.

A death - _any_ death - is a tragedy.

Especially when a child's innocence is lost in the process. They couldn't help but think that this child would grow up, wondering where his parents were, or why they didn't love him enough to stay. Although, it's not like he had much of a life; according to the police, Ben's mother drank heavily, until she passed away from alcohol poisoning. That was when his father resorted to robbing people. At first, it was for money for food, but it soon became nothing more than sport.

And Ross just happened to be his next victim. _  
><em>

But in this tragic turn of events, the six of them found each other.

Together, they sat on the couch, and it felt like they were in their own little world, an island, surrounded by the waters that rolled the waves of hope. In the darkest light, they persevered. It took the ringing of Phoebe's cell phone to remind them why they were here in the first place.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Pheebs!"

"Wha- **_Chandler_**?" The voice on the other end was unmistakable; it was Chandler. Not the gloomy, disillusioned Chandler they were hating at the moment, but the cheerful, happy-go-lucky one that they had grown to love over the years.

Quickly, she darted her eyes between Ross, Joey, and Rachel, who's warm face turned to shock. The three of them looked back, just as surprised, and began listening intently on their conversation, hell-bent on figuring out why Chandler would call them out of the blue.

"What's up?"

"Well, uh, Joey and I, are, um, visiting Ross. What's up with **_you_**?"

"Just uh, playin' cards."

"With?" They didn't dare mention Monica's name yet; it was still hard to wrap their heads around why Chandler was acting like this. Deciding to take the easy road, Phoebe tried to discreetly find out more, making sure that the other three in the room could hear every word.

"Myself, why?"

"Umm, no reason." She shot an unsure look to the three of them, wondering what to do. Confused, they looked back at each other, and figured that someone else should try to talk to him. Joey hesitantly volunteered by reaching out towards her, so Phoebe handed the phone over to him, cautiously.

"Hey, man."

"Joe!" Chandler yelled over the other end, his voice seeming to echo throughout the room, piercing the thick membrane of silence that lingered around the three of them. Joey almost swore Ross and Rachel could hear his uncomfortably high and squeaky voice, even though they really couldn't.

"Uh, how're ya feeling?" It was a hard question to ask, and it was smart to fear the consequences. Regardless, Chandler answered his friend, filled with glee, apparently.

"Great! I had a headache, so I took some mini Alka-Seltzer and now I'm feeling _good_." He slurred his words somewhat, implying that he was drunk. Again. But that was not the worst part; the worst part was that Alka-Seltzer only came in _one_ size.

"...How many did you take?" Joey's voice became grave, shocking the rest of the group, as he was not one to take such a tone until it was absolutely necessary; something that he had picked up from Chandler. It was how they knew how serious the situation was.

"Two, like it says on the bottle."

"Okay, dude, those are painkillers from when I dislocated my shoulder!" Like a spark, he immediately knew what Chandler had done.

"I wish someone woulda told me that, 'cause I'm starting to get dizzy." His speech became harder to recognize, until Joey decided that the best thing he could do for his friend was go home and help him. Immediately. Without a further thought, he said what needed to be said.

"Alright, look, just go lay down, alright? I'm comin' home."

There was no answer from Chandler's end, so Joey decided to hang up. He handed the phone back to Phoebe, who had a dazed look on her face, wondering what was really going on, even though she had just heard it from Joey's lips. Like usual, nothing made sense to her.

_A world of madness._

"You comin', Pheebs?"

"Um, I think I'll stay." She nudged her head toward Ross and Rachel. They both noticed her, but she didn't care, as Phoebe always got her point across.

"Oh, yeah, right! Sorry." Joey slapped his forehead out of his own dim wit, before holding out his hand for Phoebe to give the keys to her cab to. As he recovered, he put his coat back on and headed out of the door, waving to his friends, of whom were lucky they didn't have to do this.

"See you guys!"

"Bye, Joey."

"Okay, that's exactly why we came here in the first place. We need your help to get Monica and Chandler together." Phoebe leaned in towards her lobsters before pointing back towards Joey. Originally, this was going to be the first thing she'd bring up when they came in, but were sidetracked by the breaking news of Ross's mugger.

"Come on, Pheebs. They're gonna get past this. They just need time."

"Yeah, okay Ross, but who knows how long _**that's** _gonna take? Joey and I can't stand this anymore!" It was true. They were near their breaking points, and although they didn't have to do anything to help Monica and Chandler, they did it because it was the right thing to do. They needed help.

They needed the lobsters.

To make more lobsters.

Well, it made sense to Phoebe.

"Well, we can!"

"That's because you and Ross are _here_ most of the time! You're not back home trying to force small-talk with -" She shook her head angrily, trying to form audible yet sensible words; something that had troubled her for such a long time. She blurted out the first things that crossed her mind. "Gloomy Gus and Mopey Maria!"

Ross and Rachel gave each other confused looks, but realized that Phoebe was nothing short of absolutely correct. It _was_ always her and Joey on the front lines, constantly trying to cheer Monica and Chandler up, whether it be separately or as a team. It had to have been the most exhausting thing they've ever done, and they would be more than happy if Ross and Rachel traded places with them.

Maybe, they could.

But for much different reasons.

"A-Alright, Pheebs, alright. Calm down. Sorry." Ross reached his hand out to her, to which she grabbed it, feeling the bond of friendship becoming stronger and stronger with each passing second. Reluctantly, she relinquished her anger for productiveness instead.

"Good. Now, let's figure something out."

So, for the rest of the day, they laid down what Phoebe referred to as 'the grand scheme'. According to her, it would involve stealth, diamonds, and nuclear submarines. After forceful persuasion from her lobsters, however, she toned down her usual mannerisms and started a new plan; one that would simply bring Monica and Chandler together, instead of making the six of them rich and living on a paradise island while the United States Government charges them with high treason. While Phoebe declared it boring, Ross and Rachel stated it necessary if they wanted their friends to be happy.

They did. Badly.

Joey silently opened the door to his apartment, and, like the night that Monica was hospitalized, it was dark, despite it being midday. Only the golden rays of sunlight seeping their ways through the blinds shone, striping the back wall of Chandler's room. It was quiet, like usual, but there was something in the air that made everything feel tingly. It was like smoke, but not as strong. Choosing to ignore it, Joey slipped off his shoes, and, after tripping over the foosball table, turned the lights on and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. As he popped the bottle cap off, the scent of hops quickly made him forget his stress, but not his mission. Steadily, he walked toward his best friends room, and pushed the already cracked door open.

In it, he saw Chandler, arms under his pillow and head turned toward the window, sleeping like a baby. Relief then washed over him like a tsunami, and he smiled, praising whomever granted comfort to his brother.

Things were okay, for now.

Silently, Joey tiptoed over to Chandler's bed, where he sat on the edge, facing away from his sleeping friend. Quietly, to himself, he began thinking - more than he ever thought before. About life, about love, and about his friends; the most important thing in the world to him. They were all moving on in life, while he sat here, playing peacemaker, all the while without someone to show him what love really was.

It didn't matter with whom he had that experience with; he just wanted it with someone.

_Good things come to those who wait._

He remembered Ross telling him that a long time ago; but he didn't listen. Joey Tribbiani was a man of action; patience was virtually all but lost to him. He was never one to think before saying or doing something; he just did it and dealt with the consequences later, as his history with women would tell him time and time again.

He set his beer down onto the floor, quietly snickering at his own fortune. Many men would kill to be in his shoes, being able to sleep with so many women and not have any ounce of commitment in his strong, macho blood, but they had no idea the loneliness that was brought along with it. A taste of love would blind him; kill him, even, but it would be worth it.

Unless he changed himself, Joey would never feel the difference between having sex and making love.

What better time than on his roommate's bed?

He smiled once more, and lifted his leg over his knee, taking another sip of Guinness. He had to be what he wanted to be; happy. While having woman after woman at his bedside almost every morning was satisfying, there was always a void left open by the fact that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other at that point.

Joey could make it happen with a bar girl, supposedly.

But it wouldn't be right.

Putting his hand to his chin, he wondered what his dream girl would be like; smart, pretty, kind, a great kisser, and independent, most importantly. She'd never, ever depend on Joey for anything other than sex and laughter.

Is it too much to ask for a woman like that?

_Ross and Rachel.  
><em>_Chandler and Monica.  
>Joey and... <em>

Phoebe?

_Wait, what? _

Instantly, Joey shook his head, in disbelief that his closest friend would ever become a romantic interest. They were close, closer than most couples, but to think of her in that way almost made him sick. She was more of a sister to him than his _own_ sisters were. It was crazy. It was foolish.

It was the truth.

But, he blew it off, blaming the beer, despite having consumed so little that it would not even bring an ant to buzz.

Hurriedly, in disbelief, he left Chandler's room, and quickly went to lie down in his own bed, hoping to drift off into sleep to forget his inappropriate revelation. Yet, all he could think about was Phoebe. How beautiful she was, how she was the epitome of everything he just thought he wanted, and the fact that he was now developing feelings for a woman of whom's sister slept with Joey only two years prior; this led to him imagining her naked.

Shutting his eyes, he tortured himself with images of her flowing, golden locks.


	28. Chapter 28: Suppression in Motion

**AN: This story's going to be wrapping up pretty soon.  
>Honestly, I never expected it to ever be this long.<strong>  
><strong>Forgive me if I dragged this out. <strong>

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>He remembered the way he used to play, whether it be with his toy dinosaurs or with coloring books <em>of<em> dinosaurs. He never played with the other children, since they were boring and didn't like the same things that he did, even his sister. But when Rachel would come over and say hi, he'd stutter and blush. She was _way_ too pretty, why would she even talk to him?

It gave him a funny feeling.

And when he watched Monica do girly stuff with Rachel, like barbies, Ross still wished that he could be there too, even though in the dozens of times they invited him to play, he was too afraid to say yes. He wanted to be alone with Rachel, but he didn't at the same time. What would he even say to her? What would she think of him? These questions popped up like acne, and would crush all of his imaginary advances. Instead, from elementary school to high school, he watched her grow, his interest becoming infatuation, and his infatuation becoming an obsession.

However, when Ross met Will, things began to change. He also liked science, and they would often talk about many things related to science all day, every day. As they became friends, Rachel became all but lost to him, becoming a crush that he would glance at only a **_couple_ **times a day. She became more attached to other people, the _popular_ people, the people of which Ross hated because they were shallow and mean. But his new-found distraction in Will proved to be just that: A _distraction_. Ross still loved Rachel, more than ever. No matter how much he tried to deny his feelings, he could not. Perhaps the only thing he was good at doing was not letting his love for her influence anything else in his life. This turned out to be quite successful, as he managed to get his doctorate and obtain a well paying job, along with a beautiful wife, of whom he loved more than anything.

But there, in his heart, stood a little fragment that would always be reserved for Rachel.

It would not begin it's comeback until Carol left him. But when it did, it was swift and painful, reminding him of what could have been, if he had asked Rachel out the hundreds of times he could have, but was too scared of what she would do or think. It lingered inside of him, since that was really the only woman he could say that he _loved_. When Chandler or Monica tried to set him up, he would never feel the same way with any woman like he did with Rachel.

Then came that fateful day in September of 1994.

She was so beautiful. As beautiful as he could remember. It had been years since he had seen that creamy angelic face, where not even the purest drops of water dare touch; they were busy soaking her hair and wedding dress. Seeing her was quite a shock, but it was more than welcome in the darkness of his life. Every word they said to each other, and every time their eyes met, Ross felt like he was home again.

Two-and-a-half years ago.

That was two-and-a-half years ago.

And now, he here was, with the very object of his dreams, the one thing he placed on a marble pedestal in the highest peak of Mount Olympia. He had her, and yet it didn't _feel_ like he had her, as if none of this was real, somehow. It was as if he didn't _cherish_ their moments enough. Is that really true? Did he take her for granted?

No, that was impossible.

He loved her, more than anything.

So, he sat in this room of his own design, reflecting on his life, as if he had all the time in the world. In reality, he did. He couldn't tell if he was dreaming, or just thinking; after being on so many painkillers, the difference becomes obscure enough so that one would just accept the fact that nothing may be real, and everything may be an illusion. Ross, being an academic, questioned many things. Mostly about science, but about other things as well. It didn't occur to him until that night that there will always be always be problems that will never be solved.

What **_is_ **love?

It took another two weeks of hell for Ross to figure out that head-scratcher.

There _was_ no definition. It is the one who sees it in its true form who can truly define it; it is up to the individual to decide what their meaning of love is. To each his own, and Ross had, without a doubt, known what it was for years.

He needed her.

He needed Rachel, to come and sweep him away.

Tightly, he shut his eyes, waiting for her. She appeared in his dreams a million times over, safeguarding him from the darkest place of all: His own mind. Images began to appear, of _them_, holding, kissing, and loving. Each second would bring him warmth, and when she got closer, she spoke with the voice of a child.

_Daddy?_

_Daddy..._

Ross had awoken, shooting up in his bed, to the voice of his son, calling him. The darkened ceiling tiles above him shook and twisted violently as his eyes regained focus, awakening from his incubus. Why did this have to happen? Since that night, every time something or someone was starting to look better, it took a turn for the worse, without so much as looking back to the damage it had previously caused.

A never-ending nightmare, wandering through the thin fabric of reality.

Why, when something like this happened, his lover, his angel, would be so far away?

When he recovered from the shock, he pictured Rachel, hoping to fall back to sleep in peace. She would have been sleeping on her side, her left arm drooping over the side of the bed, and her right comfortably tucked under her pillow. Her skin would be so soft, having just been moisturized before she crawled into her bed. The teddy bear that she kept at her side (whose name was now forgotten to Ross) would always keep her warm when he couldn't. She'd be breathing, loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to be snoring.

So beautiful.

It hadn't occurred to him that she was not sleeping; she was wide awake, having cereal in Joey's apartment. Phoebe had insisted that they go over the plan right before sleeping, so that it would be freshly ingrained in their minds when they woke up.

After Rachel and Phoebe had left the hospital, they came back home, in order to revise their strategy and to make any last-minute changes, before going over it one last time. In order to do this, they had to wake up Joey, who was apparently having a terrible nightmare. Out of fear of his safety, they shook him awake, just in time to see him grin so widely he could resist the jaws of life.

Quietly, as to not disturb Chandler and/or Monica, they went over the plan. Rachel tried her best to pay attention, but, like usual, there was only one thing on _her_ mind: Ross. Ross, her knight in shining armor, her soldier in plain sight, her Popeye.

She sat, a bowl of cereal in front of her, with Phoebe's voice becoming higher and higher, crunching her thoughts between her words.

Lazily, she put another spoon of Trix in her mouth, chomping to the rhythm of the Brady Bunch theme song. As Phoebe rambled on and on about her blueprint for love, Rachel simply stared off into space, thinking about their discovery earlier today. How desperately she wanted to see Ben right now, just to make sure he was safe and secure. To look into his eyes, and see Ross. His legacy. His successor. The boy who would make a woman the luckiest woman in the world.

After her, of course.

Again, memories of her and Ross galloped through her mind.

She was so stupid. The first time she had rejected him - _**the list**_ - bit her the hardest. Even though Rachel had said that she never would have made a list of her own if she were in his shoes, she didn't understand until almost a _year_ later on **_why_ **he made it.

He cared.

He cared about Julie, and he didn't want to hurt her.

Regardless of his ever-returning feelings, Ross still wanted to do the right thing, and that included staying with his girlfriend at the time. She didn't deserve to be left in the dust like that, after coming all the way back from China to be with Ross. Even if she lived in New York, it was like leaving her and yet knowing that she was behind him the entire time. It must've hurt. Then, like an exclamation point on a bad day, Rachel abandoned him too, leaving him alone, again, despite the sacrifices he made for her.

And she still had feelings for him.

But, like Monica and Chandler at this point in time, she was too damn stubborn to swallow her pride.

So, they lost several months of what could have been the start of their relationship. No matter what Ross did to try and get her back, Rachel would not budge. Why? She asked herself that every morning, when she woke up in his guarding embrace. She suffered through weeks of loneliness for absolutely no good reason, since the best thing she could have wanted was right in front of her.

However, when she began to regret the unchangeable past, Rachel simply remembered that they were together now; that was what truly mattered. In the end, they realized that there were more important things in a relationship than petty problems.

That was why Rachel decided _not_ to bring up Chloe.

Her mind began assaulting her heart, and while the siege seemed to take a turn for the worse, love prevailed, sword held high upon it's shining white steed. No good would come from talking to him about it. Eventually, it sunk in, letting the doubt wholly consume her. It went away, and she finally accepted that the past was the past, and you can't change the past. You also can't let the past influence the future.

That's all she needed to keep telling herself.

As Phoebe clapped her hands together to signify the climax of her scheme, Rachel snapped from her reverie, almost spilling what was left of her cereal on the counter. This time, however, it wasn't Monica's apartment; it was Joey's, so spills and stains were commonplace. Looking next to her, she witnessed him fighting to stay awake, while Phoebe chastised him at the same time, somehow ignoring the fact that Rachel had stared at the ceiling for half an hour.

"Got it?" She pointed at the both of them, her eyes widened at Joey, hoping that every step of the plan would be branded into their brains, so that they'd remember it if they dug it inside a time capsule and opened it two-hundred years later, even though they would be long dead by then.

The both of them nodded, and Joey groaned, immediately dropping his head onto the counter, falling asleep in seconds. Rachel, on the other hand, staggered getting up, before stumbling across the hall with tunnel-vision to crash onto her couch, thoroughly exhausted. No matter how much she insisted, Phoebe bossed her into not sleeping with Ross tonight; they absolutely, without question, **_had_ **to go over the plan. They **_had_ **to be there, half-awake, being told something they already knew.

But those were the breaks.

It had to be done if they wanted their friends to be happy. It had to be done if they wanted the blossoms of passion to bloom between Monica and Chandler, giving them the everlasting connection that Ross and Rachel held so dearly to their hearts.

It had to be done.

It will be done.

So, the following morning, Rachel popped her head into her roommates bedroom. The fresh aroma of new sheets filled her senses, which immediately brightened up her day. On the bed, Monica was busy painting her toenails, something she rarely did until Rachel came along.

"Mon?"

"Hm?"

"We're going to visit Ross. Let's go." Rachel slowly walked over to her friend, placing her hand on her shoulder nudging her to get up. This was the most vital step of the plan, as it required careful precision, unlike the next, more brutish step.

"Wait. I don't wanna go." Monica pulled away.

"But honey," She went over to sit on the edge of the bed, placing her hand on Monica's arm, lovingly, in order to gently coerce her. "He asked for you to come. He misses you." He didn't outright _ask_ for her, but, again, it was all part of the plan. Besides, Rachel knew in her heart that Ross really did want to see his sister.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"...Alright. Just let me dress up." In defeat, Monica stood up, her toes dry, and began dressing up as Rachel left the room. She grinned a wicked grin, having completed her part. Now, it was up to Joey and Phoebe, across the hall, to fulfill their end of the bargain.

"I got nothin'." He walked out of the dark bedroom, slapping his hips, having gotten absolutely nowhere. Joey tried his best to convince Chandler that Ross wanted to see him, much like Rachel had done with Monica. However, he was much too bull-headed to comply, and simply laid in bed, face buried into his flat and dirty pillow.

Phoebe, disgruntled, barged into the room, and flipped Chandler over to his back with her near-superhuman strength, and, while noticing the dark bags under his weary and bloodshot eyes, shoved the sweet-smelling rag into his face. Before he could realize it, he blacked out, and felt his body being tossed up over someone's shoulder.

"Sorry, buddy, but this is for your own good."

Although Ross barely paid attention to anything but Rachel yesterday, he knew that what he was about to do could compromise the entire plan. Nonetheless, he needed to do it if he wanted his increasingly growing paranoia to subside. As he picked up the phone on his bedside table, he dialed the numbers, almost forgetting a couple digits until he remembered that beepers were officially becoming out-of-style. Nervously, he placed the phone to his ears, as the dialing tone taunted him with images of the two things that were most important to him.

"Hello?" The sweet-sounding voice on the other end calmed him for a second, as he was glad that it wasn't someone else, someone whom he often butted heads with over the most trivial matters. As his lungs filled with the air of relief, his heart shook as he uttered in a hushed tone.

"I-I need to see my son."


	29. Chapter 29: Light

__Why were you born?_  
><em>To live. <em>_

__What is the meaning of life?_  
><em>To find love.<em>_

_What is love?_  
><em>Chandler. <em>

Repeating the questions to herself, her heart pounded even faster, and her mind raced through every possibility again. Beads of sweat inched down her soft, delicate skin, tainting it with shame. The walls seem to collapse on her, the eggshell coloring giving a migraine that would take down an elephant. Her breathing was short and forceful, almost as if someone - _something _- was choking her.

Although, Monica had every right to feel suffocated.

Therapy is not a dark cave to hide in. Instead, you must expose your entire heart to the light: A complete stranger. A daunting task, one that required courage; something so plain inside us all, but hard to flesh out. If **_one_ **thing was kept a secret, then everything from there on would be nothing more than an interrogation. Monica was not a good liar. Her heart was jumping out of her sleeve. Therefore, she decided that it was best to just spill it, no matter what. She would not make this more complicated than it needed to be, despite that being one of her many specialties. In fact, this would be an easy day. Monica would make everyone's lives just a little bit easier. The idea almost felt nice, talking to someone outside of the four of her friends, and not thinking about _him_. Although, as Monica sat in the room, waiting for the psychiatrist to come, her anxiety kept building up as she watched the clock tick above the door. There was no way to truly prepare for this; she would have to cross the bridge when she came to it, with what she already had prepared.

All she needed to do was avoid saying something stupid; or not saying anything at all.

So, when she heard the handle turn, her entire life flashed before her. Everything she had done, everyone she had loved, and everything in her mind would need to be discussed right here, right now. Memories of the last two weeks hurt her the most, but she had to persevere if she wanted to get through this.

After all, this person was here to _help_ her.

When the gust of air from the hallway almost knocked her back, her eyes fluttered to see the woman standing in front of her. She was an older woman, almost sixty, and her shoulder-length curly blond hair was tangled and messy. Despite all of this, however, she seemed sweet. After shaking hands with Monica, she sat in her armchair and flipped the paper on her clipboard, before clicking a pen, ready to write. As she looked at Monica, a warm and motherly smile came.

"Hello, Monica, I'm Barbara."

_Barbara. _

For some reason, that name struck her as familiar, despite never meeting this woman before in her life. However, her voice was like the sweetest honey, instantly melting any fear into a paste that was crushed under her feet. Slowly, she exhaled, and nodded her head in response, to which Barbara smiled at.

"Now, Monica, I'm going to ask you a couple of questions. It will all be completely confidential. Are you ready?" She flashed another smile before speaking, and when she did speak, it was slow, deliberate, and had a pinch of thoughtfulness behind it. It was hard to imagine someone in her career path could give off such a genuine aura.

"Y-Yes."

"Do you drink, or do any drugs?" She spoke even slower this time, knowing that it was a touchy subject, and that it was a major factor in almost everything that followed. Monica had never touched drugs before, even after hearing the rumor that they made you lose weight, which was just a gimmick in itself; she was not stupid.

However, she _did_ drink frequently. Or, at least she used to. Ever since Ross's accident, she never even brought an ounce of alcohol to her lips. She knew her judgement had to be the best it could possibly be; even if it wasn't enough to stop her from hurting herself.

Monica had Ross to thank for teaching her that.

"No."

"Do you or anyone in your family have a history of mental instability?" Barbara brought up another volatile question; this was to see that, with exceptions, that mental disorders can be passed on by genetics. When Monica heard it, she immediately thought of her mother, or her Aunt Sylvia. But it wasn't so much of being unstable than it was being crazy, much like herself.

"Err.. No."

"I see..."

As the woman scribbled something down, there was a very uncomfortable silence; one that would bring be so unbearable that Monica would desperately want to just rip out her heart and yell the truth. She wasn't expecting a bunch of questions, but apparently that was all that was going to be coming at her. So, she made a decision.

Monica shut her eyes, and spoke with a hard and unforgiving voice.

"I'm **_jealous_**."

"Pardon?" Barbara lifted her head up and pulled her reading glasses down, revealing her iron grey eyes, which held so many years of wisdom; wisdom that Monica hoped would help understand her plight, and why she took a razor to her wrist.

"I'm jealous. That's why I hurt myself. I'm not 'mentally unstable' or any of that crap. I was just jealous. Nothing more." She spoke very fast, hoping to rush all of this. Monica didn't feel it, but the pain was eating away at her heart with every passing second, and she feared that if it didn't come out now, it never would.

"...Jealous of whom?"

"My brother." Monica didn't want to mention Ross by name, as that would only make her cringe. It was unclear why, exactly, but she knew better. She also knew that if this were to ever get back to him by any other source than herself, she would have hell to pay.

"Why?"

"He has everything. I don't." He didn't actually _have_ everything, but there wasn't exactly much time to explain what he did and did not have. Monica was hyperventilating enough already; she didn't need that kind of grief hanging over her.

"Monica," Barbara paused, trying to think of an easy way to say it. "If you were jealous enough to attempt suicide, that's not good. You should know that." She kept herself, despite Monica's ever-flaring temper. Patience was a virtue; and Monica was the ultimate test of it.

"I do, now. I was just in a bad place. I'm not, anymore. I don't even need to be here." Although it may have been a little extreme to tell this woman how to do her job, Monica was not always known to be subtle, no matter how much the situation called for it. It didn't help that she began speaking even faster, her words staccato-ed.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't."

"...Can I go?"

"Only if you come back next week." Barbara gave another smile, this one a bit more mischievous. What followed after was another pause, this one much more intense, as Monica was not nervous, but downright belligerent. Like many other times, when she set her mind on something, she was going to get what she wanted. And she wanted to leave.

"Just a precaution."

"...Alright, fine."

With that, she packed up her bag and left, knowing that _that_ was probably not the best way to have handled her therapy session. However, it was all true, as all of this was because she was simply jealous. It didn't matter how much she denied it; it was still the truth.

He had Rachel. He had Ben. He had a _six_-figure income.

He had **_everything_**.

As she paced through the halls, Monica quickly averted her gaze to the floor, in order to stop her growing envy towards Ross. He didn't deserve it, after all, since not only was he smarter than her, he just got plain lucky. Phoebe would call it fate or some sort of cosmic force, but Monica knew it just the hand they were dealt, and they had to play it. That's all she needed to keep telling herself. Even if she didn't have most of the things Ross did, she did love him, and he loved her.

She couldn't ask for a better brother.

Hastily, Monica sped out of the office building, hailing a cab, ready to just go home and forget about it - Ross, Rachel, Chandler - _all_ of it. Just go home and take a nice bath and forget her stupid, petty high school problems. After a while of trying to _not_ think about it, however, Monica figured that this is how Rachel must have felt dealing with her 'problems' back in high school.

How she must have felt when Ross cheated on her.

It felt pretty bad.

And she had never even been in a situation like that. Sure, she had dated some jerks, but she had never been cheated on by the man she had so desperately loved, and given her entire life to. It was just unfeasible to comprehend exactly how that would have felt. Rachel didn't resort to suicide. How did she manage?

As she tried to answer that question, Monica listlessly stepped out of the cab and into her apartment building, thoughts clutched in her small and pallid hand. She just wanted to stop thinking, although she knew that was nothing short of impossible. She was too tired to clean. She was too depressed to eat. Anything that usually helped her get her mind off of things was infallible right now; other than taking a long, hot bath. That was always the one thing she could rely on to make her feel better. The bath salts, keeping her afloat within her dreams, where she was pampered by a dozen Swedish models to the music of Whitesnake. The candles with individual scents that effortlessly blended into each other like putty. But that was nothing, compared to the dreams she now had of her friends, and of Chandler. They would save her life, while he kissed her wounds better. They would be on the front lines, while he was her personal shield.

It was bliss.

As Monica dipped her foot into the tub, the familiar warmth combed over her, and she was home again. Once she got in, the bubbles laid softly against her skin, and the soft sounds of the her new rainforest cd in the background brought her to a lake withing a jungle, where she swam with her friends. Ross and Rachel were making out behind the waterfall, their bodies intertwined like lions in heat. Joey and Phoebe were busy splashing each other and playing Marco Polo, and were having a great time with the simplest things; something Monica wished she could do.

And here she was, her legs dangling over the edge of the lake, staring at the bright blue skies above, which were cloudless and free; much like her own eyes - or Chandler's.

_Chandler._

Where was he? The various signs and symbols in her dream pointed in every direction, but lead her nowhere. Her head craned left to right, but she saw no trace of him, just the rest of her friends, most of whom were replicas of Ross and Rachel. They came closer every time she blinked, smiles on their faces and arms linked together. They were so happy. Their bright and shining faces, while inspiring, only reminded her that she was alone. What she wouldn't do to trade places with them, making others jealous for once.

Alas, it would never be that simple.

As she turned her head away, the couple said their 'I love yous' and walked away. As Monica slowly returned to face forward, she could swear she saw a soft train of a wedding dress in the corner of her eye. When she tried to ignore it, it came back, even harder. It was just not fair. Rachel didn't want to get married half as much as Monica did. But, there she was, with her _husband_.

It was wrong. It was terrible. Why couldn't she wake up?

But it was not until she felt the native graze of the bath salts against her skin did she realize that she had fallen asleep in her porcelain waterbed. Quietly, she drained the water in small intervals, as to not wake Rachel, if she was even home. Slowly, Monica stood up and stepped out of the tub, making sure she had ample gripping as to not slip. Once free, she wrapped a towel around her and went back into her room, slipping on her pajamas and going under the blankets, where she could dream once more.

A perfect life.

Her goal; now, and forever: To have the love that her brother shared with what Monica believed to be his soon-to-be wife, with someone - _Chandler_ - and live happily ever after, and even when they shuffle off of this mortal coil, their love will remain everlasting.

Just like Ross and Rachel.

_Just like Ross and Rachel. _

For whatever reason, she repeated that phrase in her head a dozen times, before realizing what she had done. Like so many train wrecks that had happened since Ross's (and hers) accident, this one hit hard and it hit fast, like a goring bull.

She kept focusing on wanting **_exactly_ **what they had; something that was unobtainable, even for Monica. It was almost nothing more than a contest, despite her feelings and desires being completely genuine. All of the energy Monica had put in trying to decipher her love for Chandler was now moot. Lost in her own puddle of jealousy, which she had believe to have driven her to work at her own satisfaction, was actually just trying to measure up to Ross and Rachel, who seemed to have it so perfect, even though that was nothing less that a blatant lie.

Telling herself no, over and over again, that this cannot be her mindset anymore, proved to be unusually easy. She was in love. Chandler was not a prize nor an accessory. Monica did not want him _that_ badly, just to upstage the lobsters so that _she_ may stand on top, for once.

She could not have what Ross and Rachel had; no one could. No matter how much she could try and replicate it, it would not happen. Her and Chandler would have to create their own relationship, and it would be a living, breathing creature, with it's own problems that they work for to overcome; something that nearly overwhelmed her.

Thoroughly depressed, Monica fell asleep once more.

There were no dreams tonight; her brain would not allow it. The usual tossing and turning to the rhythm of her heartbeat was gone, too. She laid there, motionless, for five quick hours, until her alarm went off. It was never a pleasant awakening; even less so since that night. But there was always an excuse to not turn it off; the most common was that she had simply forgotten. However, there was no bigger annoyance than the ringing and shaking that reminded her that another day had to be weathered.

To combat this, Monica sat up, and told herself that on this day, she would do absolutely **_nothing_**. Solemnly, she took out her nail polish and began to paint her hands and feet blue; her favorite color. The color of the sky, and the color of the oceans. The color of her eyes.

The color of _his_ eyes.

But, like usual, it didn't go her way. Rachel hopped in, and persuaded her to go see Ross, almost a little too eagerly than she would have hoped. She was too tired to question this, however, and dressed in the most casual way possible, shoving her obsessive need for neatness aside as she threw her jacket around her shoulders.

The cab ride was long and dreadful. Rachel kept asking her questions on how she was doing, how her therapy was last night, how she felt about Chandler, etc. Monica didn't want to answer any of them. She didn't even want to speak. She just wanted to think. Think, breathe, and sleep. Maybe eat a little. Yet, she had to go see Ross, for whatever God-forsaken reason, and apparently, it couldn't wait.

As they arrived, Rachel rushed Monica up to Ross's room, although she slowed down immensely once they got within sight of the living room, and Monica almost noticed the frown on her face that quickly turned into a grin as she noticed that Ross was actually not alone; he was holding Ben. They also noticed Carol and Susan, who were sitting next to him, but were almost out of sight due to Ross's tall stature.

But it was not without noticing something else. Rachel's expression had gone from lethargy to excitement and now to horror. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey hadn't even considered the possibility of other visitors when they made the 'plan'. They assumed it would just be the six of them together. Thinking back, it was such a foolish mistake, and now everything was compromised, in one way or another.

Swallowing her doubt, Rachel pushed the door open, and led Monica in.

"Hey, guys!" She exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, including Ben, who had been napping in his father's arms. Rachel let go of Monica's hand as she walked around the couch to greet Carol and Susan, while Monica went to get water from the cooler. They replied in their usual, casual tones, smiling.

"Rachel, Monica, hi."

After exchanging brief but thoughtful hugs, Rachel played with Ben, harshly pinching Ross on purpose, realizing that he was the one who was responsible for ruining the scheme. Monica didn't notice, and simply sat on the edge of the couch, and subconsciously watched as the pseudo-family in front of her conversed, laughed, and had fun. After twenty minutes of her leering gaze, Ross had whispered something to Rachel, which made her smile the biggest smile she had ever seen. Swiftly, she darted into the bedroom, something that rose suspicion in Monica's now-observant eye. It was apparent that something was going on, and Monica wanted answers. However, as she stood up to examine why Rachel went into the bedroom, alone, Ross yanked on her arm, turning her around to see Ben reaching out his tiny hand. Determined, though, she pulled away, but it was too late.

The door had opened, and out stepped the light.


	30. Chapter 30: Rebirth

**AN: I am dreadfully sorry I haven't been updating.  
>I promise that will all change, now that my first year of college is done and I have nothing else in my life.<br>**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>It was a good thing Phoebe kept an extra pair of sunglasses in her cab.<p>

It was also good that she didn't get stopped by the police with her speeding.

When Joey pulled Chandler out of the cab, his unconscious head clunked against the sidewalk in a fashion that would only suit a corpse. Luckily, no one seemed to notice - or care. Softly, with grace, he propped his friend up into the wheelchair Phoebe had borrowed from her grandmother. Carefully, they guided him through the hospital and upstairs. It wasn't that much of a challenge, although they did receive a couple of strange looks. It wasn't as if anyone could understand, though; Phoebe's style was always an unorthodox one.

However, she did get results.

As they reached Ross's room, they didn't notice his company until it was almost too late. Glancing at his ex-wife and her wife, they sped by them into the bedroom, only greeting with a hard 'we'll explain later' and almost crashing through the glass door. Like tempests, the duo threw Chandler onto the bed, and proceeded to wake him in every possible way from his very uncomfortable slumber. What they didn't see was that he was already awake; all of the slapping, punching, and shaking was unnecessary, but he couldn't vocalize any of it. Instead, he painfully grunted in a way that told Joey and Phoebe that he was fine, at least for now.

Although, he was a little miffed.

Phoebe picked him up by his ragged shirt and looked directly into him; Chandler could not have been more shocked or terrified. For only a couple seconds, it seemed as if she was crying, but Chandler couldn't make out any tears. Instead, Phoebe spoke, her voice coarse with rage.

"You and Monica... Now!"

He shook his head, his face limp from the chloroform. While he did comprehend what Phoebe was trying to say, he was much too disoriented to agree with something so absurd after being drugged and then kidnapped. It was just not going to happen; not now, not ever.

"Listen to me, Chandler _Bing_. You and Monica are going to make up and be together. We're sick of you two moping around like it's the end of the world. You don't even have any reason to, but no, once again you blame yourself instead of doing what's right. Don't you see that you love each other? Why can't you work this out? Why can't you be a **_man_**?" The words came out like punches, fast and true. The vicious tone Phoebe had taken proved that this was no longer going to be tolerated, and things were going to get worse if Chandler didn't obey. Breathless, she held Chandler closer to her.

"Because being a kid is fun?" He wanted to play it serious, but he couldn't. It wasn't _him_. The red in Phoebe's face intensified, and for a moment, he was sure he was about to be smacked. Flinching, he kept one eye open, but never felt the hand of his friend. Instead came a hearty and childish tone that he had come to love.

"Well, duh! But you have to grow up sometime, Chandler. Especially when it comes to _love_." Her tongue rolled at the last word; Phoebe wanted to make sure that Chandler understood. Saying he did and actually doing are two different things.

"No! I like being small and lonely and depressed." Again, he used comedy, which helped alleviate the tension that was slowly being taken out of the room. But it was for much more than that; Chandler wanted to be himself once more.

"It's simple."

"Are you joking? Since when is any of this _simple_?"

"The affairs of the heart are never simple... but as we commit ourselves to the journey, we learn the meaning of life itself..." Joey interrupted, lost in his own little world, trailing off as he looked upward towards the ceiling, as Phoebe and Chandler sat there, stunned. They never expected to hear something like that come out of Joey's sex-riddled mind, let alone believe that he actually said it.

After a quiet and tense moment, the three of them snapped back to the situation, hoping to forget what had just happened.

"Just do it, Chandler." Phoebe released him from her vice, hoping to fulfill her duty as both the good _and_ bad cop, all in one role. It had been a personal goal of hers for quite some time, and what better person to try it on that Chandler? He would crack soon enough.

"Why should I?"

"'Cause if you don't, I'll tell everyone what your favorite Clint Eastwood movie is. Hey, Pheebs. You ever been to Madison County?" Joey crossed his arms and looked at Phoebe, who's mouth was agape at what he had just said. Out of all movies starring Clint Eastwood, Chandler's favorite happened to be a love story with Meryl Streep.

"Agh, no!"

"So _do_ it."

"...Fine. Just don't tell anyone else. You know I have to keep up my reputation as the 'tough guy'." He popped his shirt while he said that, hoping to regain footing and showing off that he was okay. It wasn't the blackmail that made him relent, but the gnawing guilt to do the right thing.

"Only in your head, dude." Joey laughed.

"Yeah, yeah. So what am I supposed to do?"

"You tell Monica you love her. Then, you kiss her. Then, wedding bells will ring!" Phoebe threw her arms up into the air, lost in her own world, where things could happen at her own speed - on a whim.

"What? No!" Chandler was personally offended by this; telling someone you love them is a much different ballpark than marrying them. For Chandler, these specific parks were light years away from each other.

"Y'know, Ross said he'd personally kick your ass." Joey knew that Ross never actually said that, and meant it even less. However, the balance of the scales was tipping towards the dark pit that Chandler was in, and there wasn't much time before Monica arrived.

"He said he wouldn't."

"Things _change_. Roll with them. Don't you love her?" Phoebe slammed her hands on her sides, hoping to get through to him. She didn't want to follow Joey's lead, God forbid, but it seemed like the only hope now.

"...I do..."

"I now pronounce you man and wife. Now kiss the bride, or else." She had used his word choice to her advantage. It much easier to push someone than to pull, and Phoebe proved that.

Chandler just rolled his eyes, determined to get this over with. However, he was also very nervous, with good reason. If he messed this up, he would lose Monica, as a lover _and_ a friend. The rest of his friends would probably hate him, too. He could barely handle losing one of them; but all of them? Impossible.

In truth, however, he did love Monica. More than he had ever loved anyone else. And yet, he chose not to pursue her out of his guilt.

Being a man was pretty hard.

But, he knew it was the right thing to do. After he confessed to Ross, he had such a spark, so much hope, but all of that was drained away. Chandler was never one to fall dismal under these conditions, but love can turn even the cheeriest people into gloom slaves. It was like a dream, still, that all of this was happening.

So, for the next several minutes, which seemed like hours, the six of them, including Ross, Carol, and Susan, who helped prepare the ambiance, talked to Chandler in hopes of getting up his spirit to complete a daunting task like this. Ross assured both Chandler _and_ Joey that he wouldn't hurt anyone.

While the rest of them talked, he devised a little plan of his own.

So many things happened on the night of his accident. Him and Rachel got into a huge fight, which resulted in their breakup. As he walked down the Manhattan streets, bent upon trying to pick up the pieces of his life, they were swept away once again. He could still hear the explosion of gunpowder ringing in his head. As much as he tried, he would never forget it. Once he laid in the hospital, motionless and cold, he bent over to cradle the one piece of fragile glass that was left behind.

_Rachel._

Now, he would make sure to never let go.

But it was much too brittle. It could not hold the weight of the world, not like Rachel herself could. He admired how strong she was, helping everyone through these times of trouble. Ross had no idea how she did it, though. Was love really that strong? Or was it just in her nature? It had to have been both. She was just that perfect.

Ross owed her his life. Without Rachel, his life had no meaning. He realized that long ago. Thirteen years he had been in love with Rachel. He watched her whenever he could. He wrote her name in his books. He had been so badly lovestruck that whenever he had a girlfriend, he would pretend it was Rachel without even knowing it.

He almost called out her name during his first time with Carol.

Like most things, however, his obsession soon faded away. While his love for her remained true, he pushed it to the far depths of his heart, never letting it compromise his actions ever again. He knew he had to move on. But that didn't mean he had to stop loving her.

And three years ago, she was thrust back into his life, and he had fallen for her again. He too knew what had to be done.

So, once Carol and Susan took Ben back into the living room, Ross asked to be alone with his best friend, after persuading Joey that he was also his best friend. However, he entrusted only Chandler with this task, as he also used it as leverage to get him to make up with Monica. The two of them whispered together, and while Chandler was shocked at what Ross had told him, he was also very happy. They shook on it, like brothers should, and Ross left, allowing whomever to come back in and harass Chandler about it. He said nothing, just like he promised Ross. After several unsuccessful tries, they stopped pestering him, and he raised his head back up to look back into the living room.

There sat the raven-black hair that he had grown to love, cascading down the shoulders he held in his arms during each friendly and thoughtful hug.

When Rachel burst through the door, Chandler could swear that he saw Ross look over his shoulder and wink at him. While he appreciated all the help he had given him, he also wondered as to why Ross wasn't hounding him for all the pain he caused Monica. Usually, that's what he would do. But Chandler wasn't just some guy.

Not even so much as a shout came from Ross, except in his dreams.

"So, are you ready?" Rachel clapped, her eyes filled with hope. She so desperately wanted this to work, more so than everyone else, apparently. When it came down it, she was exhausted. She was tired of being the glue that held everyone together; that was Monica's job.

"To get down? Sure."

"No-" Rachel was taken aback by his humor.

"Boogie? Alright."

"Chandler." Her patience was running thin, already hanging by a thread.

"At least he's back to his old self." Phoebe interjected, hoping to lighten the mood even further. She didn't want to ruin anything, though, so she just sat on the end of the bed and twiddled her thumbs, letting Rachel take the reins.

"I guess. But seriously, are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

As he said that, he sat up, a fire lighting up in his heart. However, it was aflame not for Monica; but for himself. He was ready. He was ready to face his fears, because he didn't have a choice anymore. The only thing he could think about was how he would soon have what Ross and Rachel have.

He felt the eyes of his friends pry into him as he reached for the door, but, to everyone's surprise, the door opened by itself. Chandler just walked through, without even thinking about it, as he knew that it would only mess him up.

There she stood, pale and gaunt, but still as beautiful as ever. Her white long-sleeve shirt did nothing to hide the stitches on her arm. The small bumps were laid upon her like a railroad track. Chandler was sad, but he was also curious. However, it was not the time. Perhaps, later, when they would cuddle, he would trace them as a reminder of the trials they had gotten past. He would not treat them as scars, but as memories. It would not be easy to get past his guilt, but with Monica, it would make life so much easier.

Her eyes were bluer than ever; they gleamed before, but now they were shining like diamonds in the sea. It reminded them of how happy she looked whenever she was with Richard. If he wanted children, they would probably be together right now. It hurt, but it was the truth. The truth always hurts.

However, Chandler was not Richard. He wanted everything that Monica wanted, albeit not as much. But he still _wanted_ it, just like he wanted her. So, as he looked into her eyes, she mimicked the gesture. In them, he saw an unusual image. It was not him _or_ Monica, but instead Ross and Rachel. The Lobsters embraced into a kiss, one sweet and genuine. Their hearts thumped through their chest, and like tides, they ebbed and flowed with each other.

Seeing this, Chandler knew what to do.

Without another thought, he placed his hands on Monica's shoulders, and pulled her into him. They melted into each other with the warmest and most tender kiss, and it only took seconds before Monica wrapped her arms around Chandler. She felt the ultimate bliss, with his lips crushing on hers. They were softer than she had ever imagined, which was quite often since that day in the park.

It was perfect.

The sparks that set their hearts ablaze were not short in number or flare; they spewed out of their kiss, igniting the entire room with a heat that could only be the result of love. Ross felt it. Rachel felt it. Even Joey could feel it. It was as evident as it was warm. That's when they knew.

So, they cheered for the newest couple, despite them not paying any attention. They were focused on each other. Their eyes were closed, savoring every second of what would become the best kiss of their lives. In an instant, their fear dissipated and they were carried away to their own world. A comfort unbeknownst to them engulfed their feeble bodies, and they found each other, after searching for so long.

Chandler knew it was time. he pulled away, reluctantly, and spoke to her in the deepest voice he could muster.

"I love you, Monica."

She was speechless. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, like wind breezing through the Elysium fields or the gentle spatter of rain on her own window. The three words that made her heart pump faster than it ever had before rung through her mind like the gentle chimes of a tambourine. A heart attack was almost certain now. But, before she allowed that to happen, she fell into his arms once more, and her entire body drifted through phases of cool space that only Chandler could provide.

He didn't speak after that. Chandler just held her in his arms, hoping to every deity that all of this was actually happening. While her eyes remained shut, he opened his, and saw the bright faces of his friends whom, despite his stubbornness, stuck by him through all of this. Ross especially seemed happy. As he looked at his best friend, he looked at Rachel too, who was cradled in his lap. Chandler smiled, almost crying, as he nodded to them both.

This is what love felt like; it was the greatest feeling in the world.


	31. Chapter 31: Peace and Love

**AN: I hope you all like symbolism of the highest caliber I can provide.  
><strong>

**Please, enjoy.**

* * *

><p>The four of them sat there, now as couples. The moonlight bounced off their skin, illuminating them like the Northern Lights. Their gazes moved from one to the other, and the heat stood by for when they shifted their positions in the slightest. It was hard not to forget any of them were there. So desperately did they want to talk about today; the day that brought new love to them all. But no words could come out; they were much too enamored with each other. It was like a Roman orgy, they were so close together.<p>

Ross held her in his arms. She sat on him like a pedestal, her legs drooping over his side as if she were on the back of a horse, side-straddle. They smiled as one, and he pecked her cheek with a subtle passion that would only befit a queen. His hand lay faintly upon her hip, and his thumb circled around so daintily that Rachel could _feel_ it, but just barely.

It was enough.

It was enough to show the ultimate love that Ross and Rachel shared.

They didn't _need_ to say anything. Their eyes spoke for them, accompanied by the throes of silent ardor. It was a beautiful thing, to watch them stare at each other, clutching their hands as if holding on for dear life. Like a child, begging for his mother. So subtle, yet so apparent. So deliberate, but so natural at the same time.

A painting would not do them justice. A mural, maybe.

The true color of love was not pink or red; but _blue_. A cold and forsaken heart longs for warmth, and knows the true value of it. It is grateful. It does not question, therefore it is innocent. It does not reject, as it is faithful. A wandering flame catches it unfettered, and nurtures it back to health, bringing life back to the dead, and company to the abandoned.

Monica now gave that to Chandler.

Just as Rachel gave that to Ross.

None of them bothered with trying to unblur the line between fantasy and reality. It was too much to bear, risking the loss of the one you loved due to petty insecurities. Over wine and dinner, did this only make sense. Monica slowly brought the glass to her lips, and looked around the room. It was so peaceful at night, knowing that you weren't surrounded by skyscrapers. She could see why Ross loved it here, and why Rachel wanted to be here every second of every day.

Monica wanted to be here too; but only if Chandler came as well.

For so long, she had been jealous of Rachel, just as she'd been jealous of Ross. All the boys would flock to her, like pigeons to crumbs of bread. It was sickening, almost. The only reason that didn't happen to her was because she was overweight. However, the fact that Rachel was head cheerleader may have been a _small_ factor in that as well. She'd come to Monica every time she had boy troubles; and every time, Monica would seethe at how she couldn't do the same.

It all changed, eventually.

All Monica had to do was hear Chandler call her fat.

Once Rachel moved in, things began to get easier. She became less spoiled and selfish, although this was only by a small amount. When Ross's feelings for her were revealed, Monica urged her to take them. When Rachel reciprocated, Monica was even happier. When they first got together, Monica was genuinely happy. Now, she was at the peak of that, and for herself by once. Nothing could bring her down now.

She had Chandler. She had Ross. She had Ross's soon to be wife, or at least she hoped.

Ross, on the other hand, had no time to reminisce about days gone by. The present and future were all that mattered. Everyone was happy now; everyone had exactly what they needed. The tragedies of before were irrelevant, and so were the results. It was the time of champions and heroes; it was the time of love. They didn't seek anything anymore, as they already had it; it was sitting right next to them, or _on_ them, in his case.

It was almost midnight when Chandler and Monica decided it was time to go. They were rightfully tired, having been awake and in love, stronger than ever, for over eighteen hours. It was like watching two teenagers walk home from school. After giving a reassuring nod to Ross, Chandler took his beloved into a cab and left for the apartment, leaving the Lobsters alone together again.

"I could stay this way forever." Rachel whispered, her voice with its usual honey-like softness. Her cinnamon hair bounced off of her black wool sweater, and the stars in the sky only complimented the view for Ross.

"Me too." Ross held onto her tightly, his hand gently tugging on her beige skirt. He still could not believe that he was doing this with Rachel Green. It was literally a dream come true, along with his sentiment. Staying with her, forever, suspended in a plane of static motion would not be bad at all. He looked at her with adoration, and planted another sweet and saccharine kiss before speaking again to break the lovely calm.

"Y'know, I'm almost glad that night happened."

"What? Why?"

"It showed me a part of myself that loved you more than I loved my own life. It made me think about everything we've been through together, and how I needed to cherish it before it was too late... I don't know. It's hard to explain after that. Just know that I love you, okay?" For anyone else, it would have been impossible to say that. But this was _Ross_. His heart spoke for him, and the words were love, compacted and vocal. It was all real, and was all for Rachel.

"Ross..." Her body trembled at his words.

"And now, Chandler is with Monica. I'm so glad everything worked out. They're gonna be so happy." He trailed off, as to not freak her out by saying too much, too fast. However, Rachel was feeling the complete opposite.

"They will. I know they will." She _did_ know. If things could work out well for them, it could work out perfectly with others. They were so perfect for each other, it was crazy. The six of them could see it; Joey and Phoebe even more so, having been wondrous confidantes.

"Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you stay with me?" It was a daunting question, and, when it came down to it, Ross wasn't even sure why he asked it in the first place. While the prospect _seemed_ genuine, the suspicion was brought on by Rachel regardless.

"What kind of question is that? I love you."

"Do you **_really_**? I mean, there's not much to love." Ross tried to seem modest, and, for a second, it worked. Usually, when he was with Carol, she'd never do anything remotely close to this. It would hurt Ross; that was the only way he'd feel better about himself.

"Of course there is."

"Like?"

"Like how sweet you are." Rachel chose the most mundane; she decided that if he was fishing for compliments, she'd start at the bottom and work her way up. Ross deserved that much, and she was more than willing to raise his self-esteem, if only for a minute.

"What else?"

"How you loved me enough to fight for me until the very end." A big step up, but nothing less than the truth, at least. Ross did fight for her. He never wanted to let go, almost as much as she did. It was unbearable how they left things; and now, Rachel didn't even want to think about it.

"Anything else?"

"How you - Wait. You just want me to say nice things about you!" She chose to call him on it. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate with the wine flowing through her veins; she wanted more of his kisses and touching and less of his talking.

"No, no, that's not true. I'm actually curious."

"Well, there are so many things, Ross. It'd take days to list them all." Like usual, it was half and half. Half of truth, and half of deception. Rachel couldn't list them all, as she couldn't even tell what time it was. All she wanted to do to was kiss him; she did just that.

"Okay. So what's the most important one?" Ross really had to know, even though he was pushing the envelope. He loved Rachel, and didn't ask much of her; or, as much as most men ask of their girlfriends. It was a question, although she began to take offense.

"I already told you."

"Well, I am a sack full 'o sugar." He shook his head as he said this, trying to brag to keep his calm. Alluding to the first compliment Rachel had given him, he wanted to come off as modest again, although Rachel saw right through it as she kissed him again. He couldn't help but relent for her.

"Uh, no, not that one."

"I said I'd die for you, Rach. I meant it."

He truly did. After their break up, Ross could not have cared less of whether he lived or died. Even as he stared into the barrel of death, his last thought was of her, and how much he loved her. He let go, just for a second, as the bullet pierced his body, effectively destroying him. He was more than ready to die at that point, having lost everything only half an hour earlier. Again, he thought of a quote he had read somewhere, but he couldn't remember exactly where.

_A man who has lost everything is capable of anything. _

Ross _was_ prepared for anything. He didn't realize it until he saw his life flash before him. He accepted his own death, and watched it reel over as he stepped out of his body when the paramedics arrived, hoisting him away like a cadaver. If he had died, it would have been for Rachel, his final words being a well-thought out apology. Ross believed in her then, just as he did now.

"Besides, this'll be a great story to tell."

"What do you mean?"

"Hey, I took a bullet and lived. I'll be the toughest _hombre_ in the museum." Again, his machismo fired up like a solar flare. Whether it was the alcohol or the compliments, or both, it didn't matter. It worked. He was feeling better about himself, and he could say that with a smile and a kick in his step, if he _could_ step.

"Okay, but you know the second Chandler walks in there that's all gonna change, right?" Joey had told Rachel all about it; and now, whenever Rachel needed a favor, Chandler was putty in her hands. It wasn't very moral, but then again, was _anything_ truly right?

"Oh, please. He's got nothing on me. Neither does Joey. Well, Joey maybe." Ross didn't need Joey breathing down his back at that. Despite him not being as close to Ross as Chandler, he thought of him as his best friend, who would do anything for him. Ross didn't want to betray that.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. I love you no matter how tough you are." Rachel buried herself into his cold neck, giving it life once more. She loved him just the way he was; all of his faults were never permanent, as they turned into positives in so many different circumstances.

"See? That's why I don't deserve you."

"Oh, of course you do. Stop it." Rachel believed that she was the one who didn't deserve Ross; something she thought from the very beginning of their relationship. He was always so sweet and thoughtful, while she didn't feel like she was contributing at _all_.

"If you say so, Rach."

A long silence. However, it was easily remedied as Rachel began chomping on Ross's lips like a hungry piranha. It was blatant that she wanted him, as he wanted her. Ross had always enjoyed making out under the stars; it was such a turn on to do such naughty things where God himself could not see. When the sun rose, even, they would go at it like dogs. It was one of the many perks of being in love, they claimed.

"Would you uh, like to go to the bedroom?"

"Sure."

Rachel stood up while Ross finished off his glass, and as she rounded the arm of the couch, she almost tripped on her own boots, to which both of them nearly fell over laughing. Rachel soon made her way to the corner of the room, and began looking through a pile of what can only be described as 'crap'.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting your crutches." Rachel fished them out of the pile, but dropped one as she stood up. There was really no easy way to grip these things. While Ross insisted that he either use a chair or just walk, the hospital would have none of it. So, they issued him crutches.

Joey thought they were weapons.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Just go wait in there. I'll walk in, by my own." Ross had absolutely no idea as to why he said that like a robot; again, there was the alcohol, but it had to be more than that. Something up above compelled him to test his limits again, despite the current circumstances. While he was somewhat brave now, this bordered on insanity.

"No, Ross, come on-"

"Please? Do it for me?" Begging didn't help him at all. He was actually about to attempt walking again, this time inebriated. However, like most things still, it did not make sense. And it was not as if he had much to lose, anyway.

"That's stupid, Ross."

"Trust me. I'll be fine."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Rachel was worried for him, although not as much as she would be if she were sober. She knew that she would probably attempt the same thing if she were in his hospital-issue socks.

"Hey. I survived being _shot_."

After rolling her eyes, Rachel relented and stormed into the bedroom, her gaze fixed on Ross, ready to help him when he failed at his foolish stunt. She didn't know why he had to prove himself like this. Maybe, it was just a guy thing. Maybe, he wanted show off for her. Either way, he was going to do it, because Ross would never listen to something that would demean him or his pride.

However, that's what Rachel loved about him. He had such **_passion_**.

Now, he had to formulate that passion into leg strength. He had to prove that he could surpass his limits. Also, he wanted to gain a little confidence before having sex with Rachel. What better way than to use all of your remaining energy to walk _ten_ feet? It wasn't the smartest decision, nor would anyone actually gain from it. But, it was all Ross had. He loved Rachel. He loved her more than anything. Not a single lie was told that night; he would die, if it meant she would live. He would cry, if it meant he could wipe her tears away.

Also, he was fairly drunk.

So, with all of his diminished strength, he lifted himself up. It was easier than he thought it would be. His balance was kept by some unknown force, and he gained footing within seconds. It wasn't scary because he was in pain; it was scary because he couldn't feel anything. The blood rushing to his head made him cry inside. It was so forceful, more than it should ever be. There was no headache, nothing to mask the river of blood that came with such a simple task like standing up.

He took a step toward the bedroom, using the couch for support. Ross obviously bit off more than he could chew, and he was willing to compensate. Rachel watched from beyond the door, a look of hope glazed across her face. Her hand gripped the metal handle, ready to help her beloved at a moment's notice. The sight of him struggling brought tears to her eyes, but of what, she did not know. He had his reasons, and Rachel knew that the only person he cared about being hurt was her.

Another step. This time, he rounded the corner of the couch. However, it was less about stepping and more about swinging his leg around. It was a challenge, as the pain was beginning to kick in. He cringed a bit as the stinging sensation shot up from his foot to his hip. The feeling was almost mutual with Rachel. The look on Ross's face was indescribable. It was pure masochism. He frowned at the pain, but smiled for whom it was for. He slowly looked up, ready to fall to his knees in agony, but as he caught the angel of his heart in the doorway, his mortal body held out.

That was when it became hard, instead of impossible.

Rachel smiled at him, and he became immediately flustered, which he hated. He didn't need blood in his cheeks; he needed them in his legs, desperately. To negate this, there was only one thing and one thing only to think about: Chandler. Chandler kissing his _sister_.

That flushed it down with extreme prejudice.

Another toilsome step. Almost there. He looked towards his feet, it felt like he was looking at the bottom of a canyon. The alcohol and darkness only hindered it, as he was reminded of that dream he had; the feathers, the ice, and Rachel, who saved him from death. All of that came back with a vengeance, striking the very center of his soul. As much as he wanted to forget everything, he could not. Too many regrets came, and he was ready to fall again. All he needed was one thing, but he was unsure if it would be enough.

_Rachel. _

Thinking about her brought a waterfall of emotions down, both good and bad. He didn't need to think about the first time they made love or how they ate food off of each other. It was too cute. He needed to focus. Not on her, this time. The hardest trial of his life might be enough. After all, walking wasn't so much of a challenge compared to so many other things.

Holding back tears, Ross took one more step. There was nothing to support him this time. His legs were like stone being rocked by an earthquake; a gruesome sight for Rachel. She debated on whether just opening the door and ending it, but she was sure Ross would appreciate that much less than falling to the ground, having at least kept some of his pride.

After all, no one had any right to ask him to do more than his best.

It wasn't until he took his final step did he recover; a light shining in the darkness awaited him beyond the glass door. Ross knew that if he could triumph this, he could do anything. It wasn't worth it to think that walking was easy; it wasn't, anymore. Not for him. He knew that his problems were his own; he had reserved rights to complain.

Plus, he was about to get laid.

He reached his hand out, and gripped the smooth aluminum handle. It was cold, almost freezing. However, that would change if his palm kept sweating. In an almost futile attempt to keep his balance, Ross sluggishly pulled the door open, making sure that Rachel didn't move - at all. As his feet began to pick up, he nearly fell into her, exhausted.

Not _too_ exhausted, however.

"Honey, I am _so_ proud of you!" She kissed him multiple times, happy that he was able to overcome his greatest obstacle. It was surreal, almost, that such a thing could be accomplished in his current state. But it was never the time for disbelief. It was the time for celebration.

"Thanks."

"It's okay, I gotcha." As he caught his breath, Rachel planted him on the foot of the bed. His breathing was slow and wheezy, and Rachel did not even want to think about how much pain he was in. All that mattered was that he was okay and that he surpassed his limits.

"I-I love you."

"I love you too. You're so brave."

"...I did it for you." Ross whispered to himself more than her, as it seemed that she didn't even hear him; he was not going to repeat himself, as she already knew for whom he did it for anyway. Rachel wasn't stupid, although she was a bit of a ditz.

"Come on. Lay down."

As he rested his head on the pillow, Rachel stood by, almost like a nurse awaiting a command. After a minute of fluffing his pillow, she leaned down. Ross could smell her perfume, and it was the scent of the gods. Seductively, she whispered back to him.

"Do you still want to, uh, y'know, have sex?"

"Yeah. Although a bullet sounds p-re-tty good right now too, I hope you know."

"Oh, shut it. Come on."

They kissed once more. It was beautiful. Each kiss they shared was better than the last, and it was a credible asset to the affirmation of their love. Now, they were not the only ones to experience this. Monica and Chandler had finally found each other, just as Ross and Rachel had done a year earlier. The pain and sorrow of the last fortnight have gone to the wind in droves of hated dust; it was now time to move on, and move on they shall.

Nothing will stopping them. There will no longer be tears to wipe from the cheeks of the forgotten. The innocence of many will be protected by the few, once more. It is time for healing, for laughing, and for loving. Only in the darkest times is the heart tested to its limits.

And, if the love locked within is strong enough, it shall prevail.

Even when the last shred of hope is lost, the dusk shall always fall before the dawn. Ross and Rachel could prove this, with something so minuscule as a kiss; the complexity of love is rendered to nothing under them.

Now, it could fall by a different sword.


	32. Chapter 32: Memories

**AN: I've chosen to perfect this as much as possible, rather than hurry and finish the story. It'll just turn out better that way, even if there are more chapters.  
>Anyway, I just want to thank everyone who has read this.<br>After all, this is for you guys. **

**Enjoy. **

* * *

><p>The lovemaking was incredible.<p>

It was not a bed they consummated upon; it was a cloud, held up by golden swans, perched on the peak of Olympia. It was not sex; it was love. It was a drunken night of forgetting the past and having fun, like they used to, without the bad blood of past mistakes weighing them down. It felt like the very first time since they'd said 'I love you' to each other.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, the two of them had become one again. Of course, they've had sex since the accident, but that was but a rediscovery of their affection; last night was the true testament of passion that wildly sped through their hearts, as Cupid dictated. There were no words, no painful aches, and no distasteful awkwardness. Just heavy breathing, and beauty.

For so long, they had been lost, but as new love blew through the mills of friendship, they found their way home. Chandler and Monica were now their living legacy, which they had sought for almost a year, to view their love as others did, and to love, cherish, and accept it. While they needed more to live on, they could die happy now, knowing that their friends are happy.

In a flash of light, Ross was awakened. The dream he had just experience was pleasant, in that it didn't make sense (as most dreams don't) but it gave him a feeling akin to falling in love. There were no images or scenes, but simple colors, floating around like butterflies in a meadow lined with blossoming chrysanthemums. Red, green, blue, purple, all cascading towards a field of gold. He'd try to remember as much as possible, so that he could describe it to Rachel.

A couple minutes went by, but Ross didn't even move. Instead, he kept his arm around his beloved, and stared at the ceiling, observing the patterns of the drywall textures. Since he was a boy, Ross always pretended they were continents on a world unknown; a world he wanted to see, and live on, where he could be happy. They were all unique in design, and he always wondered whether they were a side-effect of the paint or put there intentionally. While the latter seemed impossible, when you dream of living with dinosaurs, your innocence knows no boundaries.

Innocence, that could never be lost.

His deep thought was interrupted by Rachel, who stirred a bit in her sleep. This surprised Ross. Usually, Rachel wouldn't move until her eyes opened; this was found out after many a time of watching her sleep while he put his clothes back on to leave her apartment. It was strange, but it was also cute, in a way. Ross always loved the little things about her, and wouldn't change a single thing about her _or_ them.

Tenderly, as to calm her if she had been restless, he kissed the nape of her neck, and sat up, careful not to disturb her. After gently patting her exposed calf, Ross stood up, unaware that he still couldn't walk so well. As if it weren't bad enough last night, this time, the sun was beating into him. As fast as he got up, like a meteor, he crashed into the bed, wincing from the pain.

No alcohol to drive him this time.

He was now worried, with good reason. Ross was almost certain that he had woken up Rachel. Shutting his eyes, he hoped her morning wrath wasn't as bad as it _usually_ was, where she'd groan like a dying bear who couldn't find her cubs. That had to be the **_one_ **thing that he remotely disliked about her; and even that he could fix by something as trivial as bringing her coffee

The only thing that he heard were the bedsprings, as Rachel shifted from one side to the other, as if nothing had ever happened. She was peaceful, and Ross's fear had subsided, for now. Now the only thing he had to worry about was making it to the living room, both to make breakfast and meet for his early therapy. Despite his legs failing on him, he had to at least _try. _

With much more precaution taken this time, including baby steps and support from his nightstand, wall, and door, Ross managed to get to his crutches. He picked them up and slopped himself onto them, making sure that he was using them properly. It took a little getting used to, but Ross knew he wouldn't need them much longer anyway. Soon, he'd be able to walk, and take Rachel everywhere: The beach, the Garden, the Smithsonian, and the Planetarium, where he would give himself to her, in body and mind, just as they did on their first date. But unlike their first date, he would give her the biggest diamond possible and ask her to be his wife.

At least, he hoped it go that smoothly. Luck was never on his side, and for the past two weeks or so, it went totally against him, and the rest of the group, for that matter. Everyone had been so shocked and traumatized that no one could possibly have gotten over this without help from each other.

At the counter, Ross set his crutches against the side of the water cooler, and, while on one leg, proceeded to pour coffee for himself, Rachel, and Chandler, who should be arriving any moment. He hoped that his doctor would be running late, as Ross didn't like keeping his friends over during exercise. There was really nothing for them to actually do here besides talk to each other and watch TV, but since they do that most of the time anyway, it wouldn't be much of a change. It wasn't _bad_, but it wasn't worth the drive up here.

If only they had a Playstation, or a ping-pong table. Joey and Chandler would certainly make good use out of both.

But, Ross still couldn't complain. He could pretty much do whatever he wanted once he was done with his daily exams. The nurses didn't even bat an eye at seeing Rachel in his bed, or Chandler being drugged and pushed in a wheelchair. The staff did what they were paid to do, and did it with a smile and a snap in their step. They must have been paid quite a lot for the service, but still, Ross wanted to do as much as he could, on his own, as he felt that he didn't deserve such special treatment. His pride may have also been a factor, but regardless, the staff liked the break.

Just like now; he could have _requested_ coffee, but he chose not to. It was a simple task, and he was up to it. That, and, he wanted to put a special ingredient into's Rachel's cup, one that could not be replicated even in a thousand years of extensive research: Love.

As Ross poured the last of the sugar in, the voice that could only exist in a dreamland came upon him, and it chirped into his ears like a million happy larks.

"Do you need help?" Rachel came out of the bedroom, tying the knot on her sky-blue robe belt. She carefully walked over to Ross, smiling , and wrapped her arms around him lovingly. Her soft skin made Ross jump a little bit, despite that now being a hazard.

"I'm, uh, good." He chortled back without looking at her, as he didn't want to trip and fall on her.

"You sure?" She squeezed him, and cooed in a little voice that made him melt. Rachel was always ready to help him in his time of need, and especially now, as things were seemingly getting better. While it was true that they were, one could never be too careful.

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Rach." While he was busy preparing a sandwich, Ross quickly turned around and pecked Rachel on the forehead. She smiled again, knowing that he was just as happy and satisfied as she was, despite not showing it as much. After a year, however, it was easy enough to tell what Ross was feeling.

"Last night was incredible."

"Only 'cause of you." Ross chuckled, as he turned around and gazed into her eyes. He kissed her once more, this time on the lips, which again felt unique and indescribable.

Rachel grinned, feeling the warmest sensation running through her body. Her heart sped up at hearing Ross's words, and, in a second, her day was made. It was truly incredible, how he knew just what to do to make her feel better than she already did.

As they got settled and finished breakfast, Ross's doctor, along with several nurses, came in to examine him for what they hoped would be the very last time. They took blood pressure, they made him walk from point A to point B (which he finally executed this time, but not without falling to the ground directly after), and they made him take a photosensitivity test, to test for epilepsy. His random seizure turned out to be nothing more than just that, random. Rachel was sure to capitalize on that.

Ross would end up staying for another week. Completely precautionary, of course. He didn't want to leave anyway. The citrus-y colors of the walls were beginning to grow on him, and it was fun being away from everything, especially his job, since that was really the only thing **_to_ **get away from.

Once four more minutes went by of discussing what they already knew, Ross and Rachel were alone again. They sat on the couch together, as a rerun of _Married, with Children _ran on the TV. As they held hands, Ross became increasingly more restless. He wanted to tell her so badly, and he did just that._  
><em>

"Rach."

"Hmm?"

"You remember our, uh, anniversary?" His question piqued her curiosity, and she turned to him, wondering why he wanted to even ask about that night. That night caused all of this; why would he want to remember it? It must have been important. Rachel didn't answer, but instead looked at Ross like he had two heads.

"Something was supposed to, uh, _happen_ that night." Putting emphasis on the words, Ross tried to think of a way to word his intentions properly. While he didn't want to talk about this at all, for some reason, he had to.

"What? What do you mean?" The night they took a break; so many things happened that night. What could have possibly gone undone?

"I uh, don't think I should say any more." At the last minute, Ross controlled himself, and tried to change the subject. He knew, however, that Rachel would now wonder what was going to happen because of this conversation. It was nothing less than a regret.

"No, come on, tell me."

"No, no, I can't. Not right now, anyway. I'm sorry. Forget I ever mentioned it, okay?" A ditch effort to change his mindset proved to be ineffective. Ross was always awkward, in a way, and he had trouble with the things he said. But this took it too far. He was more hasty than he needed to be.

"Um, sure, Ross. If you say so."

"Thanks. I love you."

"I love you too."

Rachel was now genuinely curious. For absolutely no reason whatsoever, Ross brought that up, only to push it aside as if it never happened. Why? What was he planning? Ross couldn't hide things very well, that was for sure, so she'd find out, one way or another. In fact, Rachel was certain she wouldn't even have to do _**anything**_; that's how bad Ross was at keeping secrets like this. It was like free entertainment, watching him hide whatever it was he was hiding. At first, she thought it was wrong to wait for him to mess up, but she realized she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Just waiting for Ross to do something wrong.

Several minutes after Ross's mistake, their was a knock on the door. While Rachel was surprised to see anyone so early, Ross thought otherwise. As the two of them peered through the now-bright hallway, they saw none other than Chandler. As he waved at them, he walked in, looking happier than Ralphie holding a Red Ryder BB gun, complete with a compass and sundial.

"Hello, children!"

"Hey." The two of them looked at Chandler and smiled, and returned back to the TV. While Rachel was nonchalant, Ross tried his best to copy her, and it worked. What really surprised them, however, was when Chandler leaned down and hugged both of them, almost choking them. He then skipped around and sat on the armchair next to the couch, crossing his legs with complete glee.

"Oh God. Please tell me you didn't sleep with Monica." The thought made Ross nauseous.

"Oh, God no. You think I'm going to ruin this with sex? Never again." Chandler laughed at his own joke, causing Ross and Rachel to do the same. They were all so happy, and it was nice to be in a cheery mood for a change. They sat for a minute and talked, mostly about Monica, Joey, and Phoebe, and how they were feeling.

"Uh, Rach. Could you get my crutches?"

"Huh? Oh. Sure."

As Rachel stood up, she made sure to pull her robe down. While Chandler was now in a committed relationship, that didn't change the fact that he was still a guy. She was happy for him and Monica though, and that was what mattered.

After grabbing the crutches off of the side of the counter, Rachel turned around to see Ross stuffing his hand into his pocket. It was a pity, really, that this had to end so soon. Rachel, however, decided to not notice, and that made the guys' eyes light up a bit. Whatever Ross was planning, it was obviously huge, and it involved Chandler as well. Rachel only hoped that this was an _actual_ surprise; not like the time Ross gave her a coccyx from a lar gibbon. She didn't even understand what he was giving her, but she appreciated the strange gesture anyway. It was how Ross showed his love, outside of the regular norms.

She decided to stall, so that she could eavesdrop to the best of her abilities as to what they were up to. After handing Ross his crutches, Rachel retreated into the bedroom, closing the door just enough to leave a crack open. She couldn't hear much, but it was more about toying with them than finding out their plans.

One word stood out, and it made her squeal in joy.


	33. Chapter 33: Home

**AN: I know, I leave the worst cliffhangers.  
>I'm sure all of you figured it out. <strong>

**Oh well.  
>Enjoy.<strong>

* * *

><p>The shaking of the cab as it practically hovered over the speedbumps was unbearable. Joey and Monica urged Phoebe to take the back seat for once, but, like usual, she didn't listen. While it actually belonged to her grandmother, Phoebe treated it as if it were her own; thus, no one could even come near it without her consent. This usually wasn't a problem, but when your life was in the hands of a ditzy new-age spiritualist, most people were rightfully scared for their lives if they asked to go longer than a couple blocks.<p>

None of them had ever believed they would get to the hospital alive.

"We're here!" Phoebe yelled that to herself more than Joey or Monica. After slamming her foot onto the brake, which violently lurched the three of them forward, she fixed the now-dislodged rearview mirror and saw the heads of her friends clenched against the front seat .

"It's over?" Joey's voice was that of a scared child.

Phoebe ignored the question and hopped out of the cab, bouncing happily as Joey and Monica took their time. For no reason, this irritated her to no end. She nearly opened the door and dragged them out, much like her and Joey did with Chandler the day before. There was no explanation as to why she was in such a hurry, but it was decided that since it was Phoebe, none had to be given. It was but a simple perk of being _her_.

When they first walked through the double doors, something felt different. The atmosphere felt strange, but not in a bad way. The foreign air that usually encroached and surrounded them simply flowed through the room, and it felt like they were inside a living, breathing creature. It almost felt natural, as if they were beginning to get _used_ to _being_ here.

Whether that was good or bad, only time could tell.

The brisk walk through the common area and the hallways above seemed to take longer than usual. It didn't occur to them, but they didn't walk as though they were visiting a patient; they were walking as though they were government agents. It drew attention, but, like usual, none of them cared. Besides, most of the people they went past were much older patients; they were probably just jealous that they couldn't walk that way anymore, or so Joey figured.

Ross's room looked exactly like it always did: Bright, airy, and spotless. Monica herself couldn't have cleaned it better.

After waving at Ross, who in turn was talking to Chandler, the trio walked in. As if it were second nature, Monica promptly plopped herself next to Chandler, but not before they gave each other an awkward kiss. Joey and Phoebe took to the fridge, which was re-stocked this very morning to their delight. They fixed themselves breakfast, and began to enjoy the start of the day.

Meanwhile, Rachel laid in Ross's bed, contemplating the various things she had heard earlier that morning. Were they really true? So many things ran through her head that she couldn't recall a single word without feeling the slam of the emotions associated with it. To Ross, they were mere pieces of a larger puzzle, but to Rachel, they were pieces of her life. She did not have enough information to figure out every little detail. It was hard enough to think about, let alone try to make whatever fantasy she could muster into a reality. Nothing was certain, at least for now.

She hadn't even realized that the rest of her friends had arrived; Ross's bedroom was more than soundproof.

"Hey, Ross." Joey sat down next to Ross holding a hot dog, complete with every fixing he could possibly find: ketchup, mustard, relish, onion, and what appeared to be mayonnaise. Ross didn't know whether to be disgusted or not, but since it was Joey, he didn't really care.

"Hey."

"Where's Rach?"

"In the bedroom. I think she's asleep."

"That sucks."

"...Why?" A strange word choice. It wasn't a bad thing that Rachel wasn't currently with them, but, from what Joey implied, it was. While Ross kept his suspicions to himself, he couldn't help but wonder if Joey knew something that he shouldn't.

"Dunno. Just does."

"Sure thing, Joe." Ross rolled his eyes in submission as he watched Joey take another bite of his hot dog. "Say, where'd you get that? There aren't any hot dogs in the fridge." He stared warily at his friend; while he couldn't imagine how he had a hot dog since he didn't walk in with one, Ross tried to remember that this was Joey, after all. He was basically a walking pantry.

"Oh yeah, I know. I brought it." Joey figured that Ross didn't really care about where it came from, so long as he didn't have to eat it. Too many toppings on anything made him sick, and while the guys thought this was because he was weak, it was really because he didn't _need_ it.

"I didn't see you come in with it."

"That's 'cause it was in my pocket." Joey smiled, patting his right front pocket. Ross was a little more than shocked by this, but, he kept telling himself that this was Joey he was talking to, even though it was quite a stretch, even for him. Without thinking it through, Ross voiced what was on his mind.

"That's... gross."

"_Hey_. With that attitude, you're not gonna get any." Joey took another bite; this time, a drop of mustard found it's way to his chin. Thankfully, Ross was the only one who noticed. After a quick tap on his own face, Joey promptly took the mustard and licked it off of his finger. Ross smiled a bit, but his voice turned hoarse.

"I don't **_want_ **any."

"C'mon Ross, don't be a _prude_." Joey raised his eyebrows in false triumph as he took another bite; Ross had never heard Joey said the word 'prude' before. It was something Chandler or Rachel would say to Monica or himself.

"I'm not being a prude, I'm being sanitary."

"Ha. _Sanitary_."

With his mocking tone still intact, Joey finished his hot dog and propped his feet up on the coffee table to match everyone else. While Ross, Joey, and Phoebe were talking, most of their eyes were focused on the newest couple, Monica and Chandler. It was cute, although for Ross, it took some getting used to. Seeing his best friend holding his sister's hand wasn't exactly an original Picasso, and for some reason, he hoped it would stay that way.

For a while, it seemed as though Rachel really was asleep. No one bothered to check on her, out of respect. In reality, however, she was simply painting her own mind with images of what would become her and Ross's wedding. He had such an elaborate plan, so thought through and sketched by the strongest mind she knew of. This blew Phoebe's right out of the water with a one-ton depth charge. It was complex, but great at the same time. This was everything Rachel had been hoping for.

This marriage would be their one and only.

It was no surprise when she heard Ross tell Chandler that he was going to propose on their anniversary. That was the entire point of their conversation earlier. That was what he was trying to tell her out of anxiety, which was nearly tearing him apart. It made sense, for once. There were no longer any secrets between the six of them. Life was now good, and they could continue on their journey of happiness.

Within minutes of uninterrupted thought, Rachel fell asleep, now in tune with Ross's excuse.

In the living room, the rest of the gang decided it would be fun to watch reruns of Tres Destinos, despite none of them knowing a word of spanish. However, they made their own dialogue, and yelled at the television in hopes that whatever they hoped would happen would _actually_ happen. It didn't work all the time, but when it did, a smile came across each and every one of their faces.

And Ross was worried that they would be bored.

After an hour of anticipating the almost unbearable soap opera clichés, the five of them began talking. While they started on Monica and Chandler, it soon came to where Chandler winked at Ross repeatedly enough that everyone took notice. It seemed like Chandler was more excited than Ross, which didn't seem right, at all.

It would be beautiful, however. They would be under the luminous glow of the sunset, under an arch made of the finest oak, laced and adorned with cherry blossoms. As he took her hand in his, the silken skin he had felt so many times in his would never be so distinguished as it would be at that moment.

Ross's thoughts began to take over, and he was home again. As much as he wanted to think about how perfect it would be, he didn't want to get a headache. He also didn't want to expect more than he could give, which was ultimately the downfall of many things, near and far.

"What's going on?" Monica darted between Chandler and Ross.

"I'm, uh, _wow_. Okay." Ross took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask Rachel to marry me." With a smile brighter than the sun, he spoke. His voice was straight and true, like the greatest arrow. A weight was lifted off of his lead-ridden chest, and he was home again.


	34. Chapter 34: Courage

The stars shone like diamonds, studded in the purplish-blue nebulae that barred them from the world.

The universe was their oyster, and they were content on knowing that would be here, together, forever, through the beginning and the end of the stars and galaxies. Space was but a canvas for their passion. Time was but a constraint that marked a false end.

Love did not last a lifetime; it lasted an eternity.

As they both realized this, their lips met, if only for a brief moment, before pulling away.

In her eyes, he found strength.

In his eyes, she found hope.

Together, in this abstract plane of a dream, they held each other. An inseparable bond held them, and, when the light found them, they smiled. The warmth they had been searching for since they had left the womb had come to them, in the form of their friends, who now shared their delights. A beautiful chapter of their friendship flourished, and they were strong again.

A dream was just that; a dream. However, it was an art in the right hands. Rachel knew this from the beginning. Since the accident, she tried to control her every feeling, as to control her dreams. Each time, they manifested themselves as apparitions of Ross, and she became weak at the sight of him. While this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was slowly pulling her down when she needed to be strong. For so long, Rachel had to keep herself tame, but now, she could release everything.

She did just that.

And, in her slumber, an awakening of love brought her from the trench where she once lay, and back into Ross's arms. A sense of longing was imminent, and everyone knew it except herself. Rachel didn't want to fix everything, but she had no choice; it was a matter of survival, not courage.

Now, her job was finally done, and she could rest, and forget.

So, as Ross held her, Rachel buried herself into his chest, which, in her dreams, rivaled that of Fabio's. Of course, she loved his body the way it was, but a little change in firmness wasn't the worst thing in the world. Besides, she believed that Ross would change something about her body, if he could.

That, however, was untrue.

Soon, she found peace. For a year, every hug, every kiss, and every smile that they shared was special and unique; each one satisfied her in ways that no one else could. They were special, and Rachel knew that she could not go on without them.

Beauty is found everywhere; in nature, in humanity, and, especially, in love.

A complex and never-ending puzzle. A quest with no conclusion. A battle without death.

Yet, somehow, the two of them were able to crack the code and get farther than anyone else in their stead had before them. A feat deserving of nothing less than the best, but Ross and Rachel would simply settle for having each other.

So, after deciding to relinquish control, Rachel was brought through a myriad of scenes.

At first, she could only see the grass beneath her bare feet. Her knees, which laid under an olive-brown garb, stood round beneath the thick fabric as she hunched down. For whatever insane reason, her hands clamped against her ears, and it took all of her strength not to take them away. Peculiar, but necessary, at least for the time being. However, what baffled and scared her the most was the shadow that loomed over her; for a second, Rachel believed that she was going to die. It didn't make sense, but, after all, it was a dream that she allowed to happen.

Without realizing it, Rachel took a deep, heavy breath.

_Blood._

The stench was unmistakable. Someone - _something_ - was bleeding, and, for all she knew, it was probably her. Almost instantly, Rachel's fear rose, and she shut her eyes in hopes to block out whatever was coming. However, no matter how much she tried to change anything, it would only grow more intense without her knowledge.

Believing it to be safe, Rachel opened her eyes.

To her horror, a large and bulky man shuffled in front of her, gripping his stomach. Blood poured out of him like a waterfall, and his intestines were barely contained by his muscular hand. Rachel couldn't recognize him from the angle he were in, but she knew for sure that he wasn't Ross. This brought her relief, if only for a second; the man immediately slumped onto the ground, his head now turned toward her. Accompanying her dread, Rachel looked into the man's eyes, and saw nothing.

Resisting the urge to crawl over to his lifeless body, the shadow behind her still stood tall. Rachel felt that if she moved, the figure behind her would strike, and she would end up like the poor soul in front of her. So, going with her better judgment, she didn't move. Instead, she examined the corpse.

It looked so _real. _Rachel had never seen a dead body before, thankfully, but this came very close.

Within seconds, the grass became stained with the blood of the fallen. The man's skin became pale, and his eyes fogged. Death came faster to those who feared it, and, in her dreams, Rachel feared everything. The symbols often confused her, leaving her dilapidated. The images would frighten her, just as they did at this moment. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't real; that it was just a dream. However, a nightmare was a nightmare, and this one could not have been scarier.

Hesitating as she examined the man's face, Rachel's eyes trailed the rest of his body.

The first thing she noticed was the helmet he wore. It was a galea, not unlike those worn by Roman legionaries. The ferrous metal went surprisingly well with the gold crest on the forehead. It was unlike anything Rachel had ever seen, even in her fashion-rich lifestyle. The top was rounded, and the back was tapered down to his neck. It seemed to be made for ceremony, above anything else.

It belonged to history; something that only Ross could even _remotely_ know.

Continuing on, Rachel noticed his clothing. He wore a type of laminar armor that made him seem intimidating, at least while he was alive. Beneath that, he wore a red tunic, which accentuated his fibrous build. To Rachel, it looked strange, but somehow cool at the same time. Again, she had never seen anything like it.

Finally, after going past what she could only describe as a man-skirt, Rachel reached his sandals. They were made of leather, and were laced up to his calf. It seemed like something a _woman_ was supposed to wear. What sort of cross-dressing world was she in?

It didn't make any sense.

Phasing out of her trance, Rachel came back to her dream world. For the several minutes she stared at the corpse, the person behind her stood still. No movement whatsoever. It was a spooky thought, and, combined with the man laying in front of her, it made her head hurt with a pain untold.

In a moment, her hands fell from her ears. The sounds of battle raked through her mind, and Rachel screamed for help, uncaring of what would happen. With each rapid blink, the shadow grew bigger. Whomever was behind her, wasn't very close, but was closing in very fast. It scared her, but not as much as the war happening behind her.

She didn't need to see or hear so much death.

One last look at the man in front of her. In a millisecond, Rachel was lifted up and hoisted over a shoulder, and taken away from the action. Whomever was doing it ran fast and strong, like an Olympic athlete. As her arms drooped toward the ground, Rachel caught a glimpse of it all: Shirtless men and armored men, killing each other with swords and spears. It was unreal.

She could still smell the blood, even a mile away.

As grass turned to gravel, Rachel found herself inside the safety of city walls, although she had didn't have a clue of what city she was actually in. There was nobody on the streets, or at least there were none that she could see in her dangling position. It was eerie, in a way, but Rachel was more concerned about where this person was taking her at such a hurried pace.

After several turns through a garden, they arrived at a large mansion. Rachel tried to fight her way off of the man who carried her, but it was futile. He was much too strong, and she was but a tug at the hem of her dress. Struggling proved to exhaust her, and it was all for naught anyway.

The man took her inside, where they were greeted by what Rachel could only classify as servants. With haste, they took her off of the man's shoulder, and led her away to a room, albeit a little more forceful than necessary. As she turned to see the man who brought her here, he was gone.

Before she knew it, Rachel laid on the bed, buried under blanket upon blanket. She was alone now, and had no will to pursue anything. Even in her dream, she slept, her thoughts burning with his name.

_Ross._

A magical breath swept over her, and, as if on cue, she was awakened to him.

He, too, wore armor; it covered most of his body, unlike the man before. His gladius was slung at his side, touching her covered arm. He looked so strong, so _powerful_, and yet, so gentle at the same time. His face was blank, but Rachel could see the hint of smile creeping across his darkened face.

Rachel closed her eyes, blinded by the light that appeared at her bedside. She wanted to escape this, and return to Ross's arms once again. She wanted to sit in his arms and give relationship advice to Monica and Chandler, all the while enjoying her own, now that she finally had the chance to.

While waiting for something to happen, her soldier of fortune kissed her, and her eyes were open to love again.

A trip through time. and Rachel found herself in a dark forest. Hundreds upon hundreds of tall trees surrounded her, and, for a minute, it overwhelmed her, despite the control she now exhibited over her subconscious. It was a marvel, really, how powerful the mind was. Combined with emotion, it was nothing short of spectacular.

However, Rachel was unable to see past her own hand. Feeling around, she stepped carefully over the large roots that stuck up from the ground. They were rough and would cut h er if she so much as rubbed them. While she was cold, Rachel heated up instantly with a little movement. Pulling a branch downward proved painful, as flurries of dust entered her system. Rachel didn't care that much, however. She was curious as to where all of this would lead her.

After squeezing through a very tight opening, Rachel faced forward to something very intriguing. Inches, feet, miles, it didn't matter; there was a light at the end of this tunnel. It drew her in like a moth to a flame, eager and naive.

Step after step, the path cleared, slowly but surely.

Rachel didn't think about anything other than getting through this; the arduous journey was always the one that paid off the most. She didn't care about what would happen to her, not like before. This time, she would be happy. No matter how far it seemed to be, it would be worth it.

When it became tiring, and seemed like her goal was moving farther away, Rachel flew back into her body. She gained awareness of her surroundings again, and watched as the glimmer of hope slowly faded, tears welling in her eyes.

However, at the last second, Rachel defied her nature, going against her instincts; she chose to fight. She picked herself up and began running, as fast as she could. The odds didn't matter anymore. Rachel chose to run; there was nowhere else to go, and she wanted to escape this darkness once and for all. It rightfully sickened her, and she just wanted it to stop.

As her tears flew in every direction, she ran faster, hoping to gain some ground. Rachel didn't want it to end like this, but, at the same time, she did. It was confusing, to say the least.

Just as the light closed itself, Rachel stuck her arm out. She wanted so desperately to grab it, and pull it's warmth to her. Alas, it would not be so. In seconds, the opening was now closed, and she was in the darkness once again.

Choking up, Rachel began to cry. It was unfair. Why was this happening to her? She was supposed to be in control, now. Nothing was supposed to be able to bring her down anymore. She was the happiest girl in the world. She was going to get _married_. She shouldn't be crying in the dark.

Using what little diminished willpower she had left, Rachel slowly picked herself up, almost falling down again. Her arms swung downward like pendulums, not unlike a zombie from those cheesy horror movies. Unlike those films, however, this was much more real, and much more terrifying.

Using only her legs for support, Rachel examined her surroundings. There were no trees. No roots. No light. Nothing but complete and utter darkness. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. Her voice was lost. She wanted to run, but could not; she was frozen in the nippy darkness. It was terrifying, to say the least, but she wasn't as scared as she was exhausted.

After looking down into nothingness, Rachel gave up.

She dropped, unable to support herself. Her knees buckled, and her hands crashed against an invisible barrier. Gravity seemed to multiply, and, in seconds, Rachel laid on the floor, face down, her eyes streaming with tears. Her lip quivered as she turned her head to the right, capturing the last time she saw the light in its beauty.

For so long, Rachel remained in this state, awaiting the return of that which shined bright in the darkness. It started to hurt thinking about it. She knew it wouldn't come back, but, for some reason, Rachel held out.

In a last ditch effort, the thoughts of her friends flooded her mind.

Rachel closed her eyes, and felt herself lift out of her body once again. She took several steps, and, without looking at her disheveled form, reached out toward the darkness once again. She would take no less than an escape from this nightmare, even if it cost her her sanity.

In but a single heartbeat, Rachel was forced forward. An invisible hand vehemently shoved her towards her goal, and soon, she was on the edge of the world. Her tears stopped, and she had found her strength again, in the form of a little wishful thinking. Rachel didn't let anything bring herself down anymore; she had all she possibly needed, thanks to her friends.

Closing her eyes for the final time, Rachel took one final breath.

The aroma of grass assaulted her senses once more.

However, there was no battle; therefore, no blood. Untainted, pure, and immaculate turf coated the soil beneath her feet. Even when she knew that true beauty lay behind her eyelids, Rachel left her eyes shut, knowing that all will be revealed when _she _was ready.

Peering through her eyelids, Rachel saw the forest again. However, behind the small shield of trees that laid in front of her lied something much more forgiving; a meadow. A meadow, built in a circle of open space, that practically welcomed her into its lush embrace. Small sunflowers sat in the center, each giving off their own luminous glow. Dandelions formed in concentric circles, mixing in their white fluff with the green of Mother Nature's palette.

It was **_beautiful_**.

Without hesitation, Rachel stepped out of the thick of the forest and into the place she could call home. It felt so right, being here, even if only in her dreams.

Twirling around in the paradise she had created, Rachel sat down in the comfortable bed of seeds. She leaned back, basking in the glory of her own triumph of the past week's events. In retrospect, it seemed impossible for her to deal with all of that and not end up hurting herself, much like Monica. Combine that with external catalysts, like Mark, of whom begged her to take out her pain on herself, Rachel felt like the strongest person in the world.

Thanks to _them_.

Her friends; her pillars of strength, the light that gave her warmth, and the feathers of the wings that made her an angel. She would be nothing without them, and, considering the events of the past two weeks, they would be nothing without her, either.

In the end, Rachel had a right to brag, if even a little.

Grinning, she opened her eyes, and was greeted to a sight that made her made her throw up a little.

Joey, of whom sat across from her, winking and smiling that boyish smile that would make any other girl melt. Rachel, while flattered, rolled her eyes and dismissed it. Since it was her dream, Joey couldn't take offense for just being himself. It was still cute, though, that he treated her like he usually did now, both in her dreamworld and in the real world.

Next to him, sat Phoebe. She looked like a fairy, dressed in a white sequin dress, rhinestones placed along the collar. She imitated Joey, but in her own way, puckering her lips and raising her eyebrows. Rachel took this a little more light-heartedly, seeing as Phoebe wasn't being serious like Joey was.

Rachel stared at the two of them. A question that always piqued her curiosity was how _they_ managed to get through all of this. While the three of them were often together when Ross and Monica were hospitalized, and when Chandler was busy moping over nothing, Joey and Phoebe never came to her for help, nor did they act as though they needed any. However, it was more than possible that were able to lean on each other for support, and, like Rachel, focus on helping everyone else, thus taking their minds off of their own welfare.

Smiling, she took their hands, and embraced their bond of friendship that proved truly unbreakable, even in the darkest of times. In the midst of hardship, does only the true side of heroism expose itself. Now, Rachel didn't believe that she was courageous in any regard, but, she kept herself standing, as that was an act of survival above all else.

As she checked her modesty, a chilling air arrived, and they revealed themselves.

Monica sat in the grass, legs crossed, hand clutched with Chandler's. Her solemn eyes kept to the ground, and her hair gently brushed her shoulders. While she looked sad, Rachel knew otherwise. Monica was simply remembering all that had happened, and appreciated the value of her life.

Chandler, on the other hand, was absolutely beaming. He couldn't keep his smile contained, and, after putting his arm around Monica, he almost fell over in joy. It was more than apparent that he had never been this happy before, but, it was not so obvious as to why. Of course, the fact that he was happily with Monica may have been a small factor, but, there was something more to it, especially in a dream that Rachel was having.

Or, maybe not. It was _Chandler_, after all.

They shared a smile, and Rachel took their hands as well. Another, greater moment of friendship came, and, even in a dream, it was unforgettable.

And, as a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, Rachel knew that everything was perfect. She had everything she could ever want, and soon, she would have even more. _Everyone_ would have even more, and they would be the happiest they could possibly be.

As she looked into Ross's eyes from below, Rachel took his hand from her waist and into the fray. In response to this, he interlaced his fingers with hers, and brought her silken hand up to her face.

Lovingly, he leaned over her shoulder, and kissed the diamond that laid upon her finger.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haven't written a dream in quite a while, have I?<br>Felt like I was due for one.  
>I don't care if it's just another chapter to scroll through, for some. <strong>

**I love writing them, and I hope most of you like reading them. **


	35. Chapter 35: A Final Push

The celebration was small, but lively.

Champagne had to be brought in from downstate, which, even after paying top-notch, was revealed to be of poor quality. However, Ross had no qualms of it, and, therefore, no one else did either.

Each congratulatory hug brought new meaning to the word 'friendship'. A change to each of their lives, all for the better. A shift in the paradigm, without an ounce of suffering. A more-than-welcome addition to a family within a family. They were now closer than they had ever thought possible as a group, and their bond burned hotter than a supernova.

In a single motion, their hearts were lifted. Each and every one of their spirits became awakened, and, as they sat in the living room, a calm and discerning smile came from their lips, and they were happy once more.

Less than a minute passed as Ross revealed his plan to propose.

Atypical for him, there would be no expensive or glorious locale. No extravagant dinner, with a cliché'd act of hiding the ring somewhere where Rachel would intentionally find. No feature on the jumbo-tron at a baseball game, in front of thousands of people.

No proposal at the planetarium, as he'd originally planned.

While his friends were initially surprised at his venture, they understood once he had explained everything. It was not in their place to judge. They learned just as much from the past weeks' events just as Ross did, albeit to a lesser degree. However, he knew, and this was enough. His way was better.

In fact, it was perfect.

Nothing meant more to Ross than the complete and total confession of his love for Rachel. He would give everything he had in one final push towards happiness, with her. No matter what, he would fight for her until the very end, just as he did the night they broke up. To Ross, walking to the ends of the earth seemed like child's play in comparison to this; a grander scale would not even come close. He had to make this proposal perfect, otherwise he'd never forgive himself.

After all, one perfection deserves another.

And Rachel was nothing short of that. She was everything he had ever wanted, and so much more. Never since his divorce to Carol did Ross think he would ever be _this_ happy again. Even to this day, he kept it at the back of his mind that this was some twisted dream that just kept on going.

However, there was the small chance that it may be real.

If it was, then dreams _do_ come true.

"_Ross_."

Dreams that come and go become forsaken and forgotten. A dream where every moment is unforgettable, however, is a dream worth clinging to for the rest of your life, even when reality begins to fade away.

"Ross!" Phoebe sat next to Ross, waving her hand in front of his face, in an attempt to snap him out of his funk. He was always in deep thought, but, this time, his eyes were beginning to slip to the back of his head.

"Huh?" Ross nearly jumped, and Phoebe pulled her hand away. His look darted around the room, but never caught the one person who was trying to catch his attention. Only after sitting back into the cushion did he see her.

"You okay?" She placed her hand on his shoulder, appearing genuinely concerned, even after his warm smile of alarmed relief came about. Phoebe usually saw right through peoples' appearance and into the pit of their soul that held their true emotions. While many people thought it to be creepy, she believed it was a gift.

"Yeah. Just uh, thinking." Ross waved his hand in an undecipherable gesture, having no idea how to explain his thoughts. Instead, he looked at Phoebe, hoofing his mouth to the side in indecision. He didn't want to reveal too much of anything until _he_ knew what he was actually thinking.

"About?"

"Rachel, and stuff."

"Ooooh, what kind of stuff?" Ross's statement immediately piqued Phoebe's curiosity, and, as fast as he said it, he regretted it. He knew that she wasn't the ideal person to talk to, especially because of their often conflicting personalities and interests.

"Like," He blew out whatever air was left in his lungs as he cleared his mind. "what if she doesn't say yes?" It was hard to say. He choked up a bit as the words flowed from his tongue, and his mind rattled at what repercussions this would have. On the other hand, he was thankful he did say it at that moment; now, he could talk about it sensibly.

"What? That's **_crazy_**! Why wouldn't she say yes?" Phoebe was more than appalled when she heard this; it should be the last thing on Ross's mind. It certainly was the last thing on her's. For him to drop a bombshell like this, it made Phoebe a little angry. She didn't want to be brought down just as much as Ross didn't _want_ to put her down.

"I don't know. It might happen. I mean, we _just_ got back together, Pheebs."

"So? You love her! She loves you! You two have never stopped loving each other!" Phoebe's yells reached the rest of their friends, and their looked over to the capricious duo. After a quick glare to each of them, they all resumed what they were doing. As Ross remained speechless, she continued, her hand finding his shoulder again in a friendly squeeze.

"There's no reason for her to say no. You're just a-a paranoid paraplegic." She stuttered as she tried to form a hearty alliteration. It was all Phoebe could do to lighten Ross's mood, if even a little bit.

"I just- I don't want to mess this up again." His melancholy expression picked up a bit as he turned to face Phoebe. Ross would do anything to focus on something - _**anything **_- else. Everyone could see it now, and he didn't want to dampen their moods. They were happy, as they should be. They knew Rachel was going to say yes; why didn't he?

"So don't. How hard is it _not_ to cheat?" Phoebe chuckled, her sarcasm apparent. Ross took offense to this, as would anyone else in his position. While she didn't mean it as such, Phoebe still knew what she said, and the gravity that was brought along with it.

"Hey! I didn't cheat! We were on a _break_!" He pointed a dejected finger at Phoebe, scolding her in such a way that only made her laugh. Everyone else noticed this, but she promptly averted them again. This was but a game to her, and she was having fun. Ross, on the other hand, was not; therefore, she chose to go in a different direction.

"You're still breaking the same eggs, Ross. Now you're just poaching them instead of scrambling them." Phoebe poked Ross's nose, which taunted his confusion to unknown levels.

"Phe- wait, what?"

"Y'know. You're calling it a he-hem-hemmuloosaurus instead of a, uh, huffigalasaurus!" Even _she_ knew that those weren't names of actual dinosaurs. Combined with years of hatred for Sesame street and Ross's incessant babbling about them, Phoebe's face lit up as she managed to form fake dinosaurs to prove her more-than-real point.

"...What?" Ross was now completely waylaid.

"Pay attention, Ross! I thought doctors were smarter us _common folk_?" Phoebe lightly slapped him on the shoulder, trying to make him understand her plight. It was a tough venture, seeing as Ross almost never understood her quirks.

"Common folk?"

"Well, I'm smarter than most. But seriously, Ross, come on! Don't you get it?" Again, her yelling caught the attention of their friends, but this time, they thought it more of a game Phoebe was trying to play; one that would put Ross as the poor, disadvantaged victim. Fortunately for her, however, he conceded easily.

"Fine! Fine. I get it, Pheebs, alright?. Whatever you say." Ross chose not to pursue this any further; any argument with Phoebe would result in a grudge, and that was the last thing he needed to deal with. He couldn't lose anyone else, even momentarily, in something as trivial as this.

"Alright. Look, just don't do anything stupid and I promise you will never, _ever_ lose Rachel. Got it?"

"Yeah." Ross gave her another solemn look, except that this time, his eyes burned with a fire of optimism. They both saw that he understood now, thanks to Phoebe's unorthodox method. Seeing this, she smiled, and gently patted his head as if he were a dog.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take those breadsticks away from Joey."

Ross chuckled, and felt himself smile at his friends' antics. Everything was falling into place so smoothly, and everyone was now back to their normal selves, with improvements all around. He knew that he had made it through all of this, thanks to the much needed support he had gained from his friends, and from Rachel. He couldn't thank her enough for everything she had done.

Twiddling with the ring, which was buried in cloth, Ross sat back into the couch. His eyes surveyed the room, finding nothing short of paradise. Granted, he wished that he was back in his own apartment, but that was not at all the reason he was so gleeful right now. He was happy because everything he could possibly need was right in front of him; and, about six feet behind him, asleep.

He smiled to himself, and looked up toward the ceiling, finding a still-unfamiliar sight. For a week, Ross was free of the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed him; yet, it still felt strange. So many revelations occurred since that night, and all of them took place in one bed. It was where he found himself; where Rachel found _herself_. Whether or not this was good or bad, Ross could not tell. However, he did know _one_ thing.

He would never forget any of this.

He could only live with it. In time, Ross would learn, especially with his friends' support. However, the poison in his body would remind him for weeks to come. No matter how small the injury may be, it will never heal completely. The curse of spinal cord injuries; they would implant a scar that concealed a tragic memory.

It still pained Ross to think about it. He knew he should've been over this, by now. It was a time for celebration. It was a time to cherish all that he had, and more, thanks to Rachel. There was no need to feel this way in such happy times. Mood swings weren't supposed to be part of their daily agenda anymore.

Ross was done being sad; he would no longer accept it.

Even in this brief moment of sorrow, he chose to think happy thoughts. Despite believing that it never truly helped anyone, and that it only blinded their feelings which desperately needed to come out, Ross didn't have any other choice. He was stuck in a rut that he needed to be dug out of.

So, he thought about none other than Rachel.

Her angelic voice trumped through his ears, bringing him closer and closer to his goal of gaiety. She kissed him, her lips softer than Athena's robes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, taking in as much as possible, and giving it back with the warmth he so desperately craved. It was an amazing feeling; euphoria like this only came once in a lifetime for most people, and yet, Ross felt it every time he thought of her.

If this wasn't love, nothing was.

Soon, however, his thoughts fluctuated. No longer were they of Rachel, but instead of Monica and Chandler, who sat across from them. They occupied a special spot on the loveseat, and in his heart; one that would remain there forever, even if they broke up. Both of them were so special to Ross. They seemed so happy, together. They smiled more. They laughed more. Even though it was a little weird, Ross knew he'd get over the deviation that his best friend was now dating his little sister, eventually; the only question was when.

During his late-night romps with Rachel, Ross had accepted the fact that Chandler and Monica would eventually have sex. For him, this was an accomplishment bigger than the atom bomb. However, just because he had accepted it, didn't mean he liked it. It was his role as the big brother to dislike whomever she was with; and, the closer Ross and Monica's suitor were, the stranger the entire situation was.

Unfortunately, Chandler now filled that position.

Ross didn't think much of it now, but, then again, he couldn't think of much else when he felt the lips of an angel on his head.


	36. Chapter 36: Through the Ice

**AN: Two more chapters left after this.  
>I'd personally thank everyone who's kept up with my lonely drabbling this long, if I could.<br>**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>He took her hand from his neck, and brought it to his lips.<p>

The silken skin he had only dreamed about, time and time again, graced him in the fabrication of reality. Like usual, there were no words to describe the feelings he gained from each touch, from each breath. They were unique, like snowflakes; like her, they pleased him in every way possible. It was easy to remember what it felt like, but it didn't compare to actually feeling it.

"Honey." Rachel's voice gently cracked in his ear, to which she promptly cleared her throat. She then kissed the corner of his mouth, and locked her arms back around his neck.

"Hey, sweetums!" Before Ross could reply with a loving gesture, as per usual protocol, Chandler sped over to the couple, yelling, coffee in hand. His smiled at his own interjection spread like a cancer; both Ross and Rachel smiled at his light antic as he handed Rachel the cup. Once he sat back down, next to Monica, Ross turned to his beloved, smiling as though he had only just discovered her.

"How was your, uh, nap?" He perked his eyebrows as he accentuated the last said 'nap', awkwardly masking his inability to find a better word.

"Good. Had a dream about you."

"Oh?"

"Mhm." Rachel squeezed him tightly, still half-awake, therefore unable to form a coherent sentence. She was never a morning person, even though it was closer to noon; this didn't stop the groggyness that usually came with it, though.

"Was it good?" Ross soured his face a little, hoping that this wasn't a joke she was playing; while he would've appreciated the fact that she was feeling better, he didn't want something as meaningful as a dream, about _him_, to be bad. It was going on the same track as when she had a dream about having sex with Chandler; something he absolutely _**hated**_.

"Of course." She pouted after hearing his blatant disbelief; she would never trick him in such a dirty way as to play with his heart, especially not after the past weeks' events. Why would he even ask such thing?

"Get a room." Before either of them could continue, Chandler interrupted their embrace with sarcasm from across the coffee table. He smiled at the two, who then smiled back, after some initial embarrassment. However, while Rachel simply grinned, Ross was formulating a comeback, which didn't take very long.

"You should talk, groping my sister." He looked at Monica with false disgust, which, combined with Chandler's jab at the couple, made her blush. Her eyes quickly went to the floor, hoping to stay out of whatever may come.

"Hey! That is not groping!" Chandler lashed out at this, shoving his hand in front of Ross's face after pointing to a shocked Monica. His ultra-defensive behavior scared everyone around him, mainly because they didn't know if he was being serious or not.

"Whatever you say, man. Just don't get _too_ touchy-feely." Ross snickered at Chandler's outburst, but remained serious enough to dispel any more anger by putting his hands up.

"Or what?"

"I-I'll kick your ass, is what." Ross did his best to sound grave and foreboding in the silence that briefly came; little did he know, he sounded about as threatening as a drowsy hamster. It took him awhile to understand this, and, by the time he did, everyone else in the room was laughing; Phoebe's was, as usual, the loudest.

Retreating into the comfort of the couch, Ross crossed his arms in defeat. Rachel tried to reassure him that he could in fact beat Chandler up, but whether or not this was true or not remained to be disputed. Ross however, believed her, and silently played the scenario out in his head many times of how he would have won the last argument. His grin acquired looks of confusion from Chandler and Monica, but Ross was oblivious.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Rachel found herself more or less wide-awake. She plopped herself next to her boyfriend, and solemnly rested her head into his shoulder. So many things returned to her mind, speeding through like Manhattan at rush hour. Soon, he would ask her to marry him; overwhelming, to say the least. Even though she had kind of expected it weeks before their breakup, to hear it out of Ross's mouth now made her knees buckle; with what, Rachel didn't know.

Of course, she would say yes. She had a million reasons to, and none to say otherwise. This was Ross; the love of her life. The one person whom she could count on to support her in the darkest times, no matter how taxing they may be. The one person she could give herself to, in body, mind, and soul. The one person who would give his life for her, without hesitation.

Yet, something kept Rachel on edge. Perhaps, in the most mundane possible way, she wasn't ready for this. Why, she did not know. Everything was good now. Spring was right around the corner, but love was already in the air. They were happy. Their friends were happy. There was, once again, no reason for this doubt that built up inside of her. She assumed that she was just paranoid; that everything felt too good to be true, when it really wasn't. This was going to happen, one way or another. Rachel was ready.

In the end, there would be no question of her answer. She wanted to be with Ross for the rest of her life. A couple of loose thoughts were not going to stop her from being happy. After all, she managed to come this far, wading through rivers of despair; how hard was it to go a little further?

The question called for an answer; one she could not give at the moment. Her stomach began rumbling like an earthquake, sending shockwaves through the rest of her frail body. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that she had switched bodies with Joey. Deciding that her brain needed food, Rachel quickly pecked Ross on the cheek, stood up, hemmed out her shirt, and walked toward the kitchen. After giving Joey, who was sitting on the counter, mouth full, a half-hearted smile, Rachel opened the fridge to her displeasure; only several slices of bread and a sliver of ham remained. A sandwich of such a small caliber would not fill her up, but, with the sharp knife of pain that came at extreme hunger, Rachel would take it.

Across the room, Ross began to squirm. He desperately needed someone to talk to; someone who could understand his position. Phoebe couldn't. Joey certainly couldn't. That left two potential candidates; luckily, they were both able to help. Quietly, he attempted to get their attention.

"Guys."

No response; Monica and Chandler were much too engaged with themselves.

"_Guys_." Ross leaned forward and spoke a little louder this time, making sure that no one else saw the plight in his eyes. Thankfully, Chandler noticed, and whipped his head around to face Ross. After snapping back to reality, he let go of Monica's hands; despite his earlier belittlement, he did not want to face Ross's mostly-verbal wrath. Even though it was not as shrill-sounding, he could be just as loud as his sister.

"I'm scared." His voice cracked; the blood coursing through his veins made him sweat.

"Of?

Ross nudged his head toward Rachel, who was preparing her lunch.

"We've talked about this, dude." Chandler rolled his eyes, knowing deep down that the only reason Ross was bringing this up was to keep him away from Monica. However, his voice hid a small concern for his best friend, and, realizing this was about the proposal, decided to hear him out.

"I don't even know how I'm going to do this!" Ross shook his head rapidly, exclaiming it to himself, but gently crying it to Monica and Chandler. It was true; he had no real game plan but to pop the question when they were alone.

"You said you were going to speak 'from your heart'." Chandler made air quotes at the final words, opting to improve Ross's confidence by lying about his own ability to understand what 'from your heart' meant. Of course, he did, but not as much as Ross.

"I also said I'd write Jurassic Park. Things change."

When he said that, Ross made a fist between them, trying to dissipate his frustration in a physical manner; something he was terrible at. There were much better ways to relieve stress; Ross knew this. So, once he tried to recite Darwin's theories, he found himself calm and confused once again.

"I just- I want this to be perfect. I don't know if I can do that."

"You're worried about this being _perfect_? Ross, she loves you. Even if you ask her in the most casual way possible, she'll say yes and she will _love_ it. I promise." Monica's skilled words took over Chandler, hoping to shed some light on the situation. She knew more about women than both of them combined; even moreso about Rachel. Therefore, what she said was true; Rachel would love it no matter what. It wasn't because of the presentation or the ring or even his words; it was because it was Ross.

"Yeah? How do you know that? How do you know she won't refuse because it's not the proposal of her dreams?" Ross tried to pull out as many questions as possible, hoping to make them just as disoriented and dismayed as he was. In truth, all he wanted was to make this as memorable as possible for her; more than their first kiss, more than their first night together, and definitely much more than the night of the accident.

"Her dreams, or yours?" Monica pointed her finger at Ross, for once outsmarting him. She could see it instantly; she was right. He feared the proposal because it would not live up to his standards, and not Rachel's, which were practically non-existent.

"What?" Ross looked like he was about to burst out in tears; his face became red at the bed he had made, and knew what Monica was going to say before she even said it.

"You need to stop thinking about how you'll react and start thinking about how _she_ will." Conspicuously, she pointed at Rachel. The words stung a bit, mainly because she was right and he had been wrong this entire time. After several seconds, however, he gave in.

"I don't know how she will, though." Ross's eyes averted to the floor, and he subconsciously played with his hands, hoping to figure something out. It was painful, unable to learn the unknown. However, despite his thirst for knowledge, he'd rather know too little than know too much.

"Think about it."

"But-" He was cut off.

"Just **_do_ **it, Ross! Quit being a baby!"

Monica's hushed yells startled both Ross and Chandler. However, what surprised them more was that she didn't actually scream, like she'd usually do. This time, she was able to control her decibels. The first thought on her mind was that being with Chandler was making her soft, which she chuckled at, terrifying the two even more.

"Er, whatever, Mon." Ross blinked between Chandler and his sister, unable to comprehend what just happened. Chandler seemed to be more scared than him, as he clenched his jaw shut as to brace for some sort of impact that didn't come.

As seconds turned into minutes, Monica stared into space before crashing back to Earth. Embarrassed, she moved her hair behind her hair and meekly pecked Chandler on the cheek, acting as if nothing happened.

Disgruntled, Ross wiped his face with his hands and fell back into the couch one more time, sighing heavily. He told himself, over and over, that most, if not all of this was in his head; but why couldn't he shake this strange feeling that plagued him? Was he really just paranoid? Was he overthinking it? Was he overthinking about overthinking it? The prospect made his head ache.

In one last motion, Ross locked eyes with his beloved. She was so beautiful, even though she had just gotten out of bed. Her auburn hair was not frizzy nor unkempt; it was as it always was: Angelic. Her skin was still as soft as velvet, and her eyes sparkled in the dim sunlight.

As Rachel smiled at his gaze, he naturally did the same.

He had forgotten what he was so stressed over.


	37. Chapter 37: Forever

**AN: I'm sorry this chapter is so long.  
>It will speak for itself, I promise. <strong>

**Enjoy. **

* * *

><p>As moonlight dominated once more, the sounds of the wind and the crickets filled the air.<p>

It was not eerie, but calm.

It was perfect.

Several hours ago, everyone had gone home. It didn't take long for Ross to convince everyone that he needed to do this by himself, armed only with love. While Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe found it funny, Monica thought that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard in her life. It was as if Ross was a completely different person now; he had changed for the better. He seemed so much stronger than ever before, and because of everything that had happened, he had grown.

While she could feel the bond that Ross and Rachel shared from being with Chandler, they were still light years away from even coming close to their level. Monica knew that the connection they shared could not be replicated; it could only be as similar as it was different.

_As a man builds a house, and he builds another one next to it, using the exact same tools, materials, and blueprints, they will not be the same. Something will always be different; unique. Such is the nature of love. The love that is shared between two people is as unique as the people themselves. As many snowflakes may fall, they are a far cry away from each other._

_As every feather falls from grace, the earth knows that they are special. _

Monica had always wondered if she'd ever find someone to complete her, as Rachel did for Ross. Richard came and went, like a tumbleweed on a warm summer's day. Everyone else was barely in the record. Because of this, Monica had been so jealous, so _**resentful**_, toward her best friend and her brother, it made her nauseous. Here were two people, that cared more for her than anyone else, and, in the back of her mind, she wanted them to break up, just so they'd be as miserable as her?

Who knows what else she would've done if Chandler hadn't found her in the park that day.

With a fulfilled dream, and a happy heart, Monica took her hand away from her stitched arm, and pushed the past to where it belonged: The past. The only thing she kept her mind focused on was that she was going to have a sister-in-law, and that someday, she could love Chandler the way Ross loved Rachel. That, in of itself, would be a privilege of the highest order.

So, as they walked out of the room, one last glance through the clear, glass walls told the four of them the ample truth. It was so apparent, so obvious, that a bat could see it; they were ready. Ross and Rachel were ready to embark on a lifelong journey of love and laughter, of peace and joy.

All they had to do was take the first step.

Now, they laid in bed, facing each other. Their eyes locked with a passion unrivaled, and the smile that was drawn across their lips proved to be an adequate outlet for the warmth emanating from their hearts. A simple stroke of the arm brought chills up and down their spines, sparking at the very tip of their toes. Their breathing was heavy, although Ross's seemed to be much more taxing than Rachel's, with good reason.

When he pulled her closer, Rachel eagerly sunk into his embrace. His skin was but a cold shell that slowly melted with each passing second, and she felt this without regret. It was a beautiful thing, really, to see Ross be so romantic in his own little geeky way. Of course, she adored that side of him; but that was just icing on a fiery red velvet cake. His heart; his strong, caring heart was what took her. His fierce loyalty and kind nature toward everyone he held dear was unbelievable. Even to those that had wronged him, Ross was partial to. He would protect _**everyone** _with his life, not just her; this was what Rachel admired the most.

"I love you."

His voice was nothing more than a coarse hum; it sounded as if he was shivering, or in pain. Rachel grasped him tighter in response, which seemed to calm him, if even a little. In truth, she was not so steady either, as she could not find the words to return to him; instead, she pulled her head back, and looked into his chocolate-brown eyes.

This was her medicine. This was her drug.

This was her reason to live.

So, in a flash, Rachel crushed her lips against Ross's. She couldn't speak, therefore she was unable to tell Ross she loved him back; instead, she showed him, in a way that would allow him to understand fully. It caught him off-guard, at first, but within a second he fell into her.

There were never any complaints.

Rachel was perfect, in every regard. What many would see as mere infatuation was quite different to Ross. Her minor flaws were easily outclassed by everything else. She had spirit, and she had strength. She was caring, and she was loyal; everything that he was, and so much more. Of _course_ he didn't deserve her; but that didn't stop Ross from trying his hardest. His stubborn nature would pay-off, one way or another, and, one day, he would be good enough for Rachel, even if it took him the rest of his life.

She was everything to him.

Ross knew it in his heart: Rachel was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There was no question about it. He wanted to love her, cherish her, and worship her in the way a queen; no, a goddess, needed to be. He had known all of this for so long; now, Rachel needed to know.

There were no more doubts; no more fear.

As they pulled from each other's waiting lips, Ross stared into the eyes of his angel; the one who'd been there for him, time and time again. The one who held his hand as he explored the depths of his own, ever-expanding mind. The one who guided him through the throes of darkness.

The one who gave him hope, when all seemed lost.

So, with a deep breath, Ross whispered to her again.

"I love you. So much."

Rachel felt his chest heave as he spoke; he was shivering, again. In response, she placed her hand on his cold cheek, and stroked it lovingly. Her cool and polished nails rubbed his skin, and he calmed down once more. He had never seen her smile so big before; it was a miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime sight that he was lucky enough to witness every day.

"I love you too, Ross." Her voice was, like always, honey. It was as if he had stepped into a warm waterfall, and bathed for a century. All of that was consolidated into a few seconds, and immediately, he melted. To hear those words, the words he could **_never_ **become accustomed to hearing, made him choke up.

_Rachel Green is in love with me. _

It must be a dream, to wake up every day to her voice; to her heart.

His hand took hers, and he brought it to his lips and kissed it once more. Her eyes began to sparkle in the dim moonlight, peering through the window above the bed. Little did he know, his did the exact same, which she took joyful notice too.

In but a second, her entire being was shaken to the moment; his hand squeezed hers firmly, but still tenderly. His eyes focused on hers, and, for a second, Ross gave off the illusion that something bad was going to happen. He cleared swallowed whatever he kept in his throat, and spoke with a firm and serious tone.

"You are everything to me."

Rachel was speechless. She couldn't believe what she had just heard; actually, she just couldn't believe that Ross said it in such a way. It almost broke the night air. He meant it, obviously, as his geeky grin instantly re-appeared, and he even chuckled a bit.

She blinked rapidly in return, still a bit shocked from his demeanor. However, after hearing his childish laugh, she shook her head in relief and smiled even wider than before.

"Don't scare me like that."

"Heh. Sorry. It's true, though." Ross scrunched his face, knowing that Rachel had been caught off-guard. He knew that if he was going to pull this off, he needed some light-hearted humor to ease in with, as there were many more surprises to come.

"You're my everything, too." Rachel rubbed his cheek with her fingers, her voice just as soft as her skin. She seemed so frail, now. Ross found it particularly amazing, how she could shift her nature like this, from a tough and independent woman to a lonely, lovesick teenager. But, no matter what, she was always strong.

"Really?"

"Really."

Both of them smiled, having just felt the warmth of their love ooze from bodies and into the whirlpool of emotion between them. As every second passed by, their doubts about marriage faded, and it wasn't so scary anymore. In fact, it felt right. Now, it was just a matter of how, and when. Ross, again, took the first step; in his ambrosia-laced words laid the weave of his love for Rachel.

"I love you, more than life itself."

His voice was soft, and it cracked all the way through. While Ross could not have been more embarrassed, Rachel thought it was the sweetest thing ever. Almost instantly, her eyes began to water, and she placed her hand upon Ross's chest. Quietly, she cried out to him.

"Ross..."

All he needed to hear was her fragmented voice; in a second flat, he pulled her closer to him, so that her head sat just below his neck. He could hear her sob, and held her tightly. His own tears began to well up, but he quickly swallowed his overflowing joy, as to keep composure. To keep his mind away from himself, Ross sang into her ear.

"You are just so _beautiful_, Rach. I don't deserve you."

Rachel's cries stopped when she heard this; she pulled away from him, and looked into his eyes. She could see into his very soul, which was rich with the ore that fed love to his heart. She could see the deep trench that was only filled by her, and her alone. It made her choke up, just thinking of how much she truly completed him. Ross was lost, without her. While others would have fled at his dependency, Rachel was more than happy to spend every waking moment with him.

So, she did. For several minutes, they stared at each other, soaking in the passion that flowed out of them. It was a moment to be remembered, forever, along with every other cherished memory they shared where they would simply look into each other's eyes and feel a thousand year's worth of love; it ended as Ross quivered his lips and muttered something he didn't want to.

"I-I'm sorry."

It came out quickly and painfully, and not even Ross was quite sure as to why he said it. However, retribution seemed necessary, so, he twisted his words, and his mind, to focus on what so desperately needed to talked about.

"For what?"

"For... what I... did." Ross's dictum staccato'd through the air between them, and the electricity that flowed through them was ready to strike lightning into their hearts. While Ross felt like things had turned sour, Rachel had a very different outlook; she placed her finger over his mouth, hushing whatever else he may have had to say.

"No. Don't."

Ross promptly closed his mouth, and watched as Rachel smiled; it was the same smile that broke his heart, many, many times as he watched her give it to Chip, to Barry, to Paolo, and to so many other men. Now, however, she was giving it to him, and he was happier than ever; little did he know, more merriment was coming, and Rachel would be the sole provider. Her joy had found its way into her voice, and, softly, she murmured into his heart.

"I forgive you."

It came as quite a shock to Ross; he had expected her to never even consider forgiving him, and yet, she did, in such a fast heartbeat. It was strange, and only confused him instead of having its original intent of making him happy, something Rachel would be hard-pressed to do now.

"But.. why?"

"I... I love you, Ross. And I know you love me. I know you're sorry and you want to take it back." It was true; she knew Ross was sorry, and that he would do anything to go back in time and correct his mistake. No matter how much it still hurt her to think about it, she knew that there were so many more important things to worry about, and that it was time to move on. She loved Ross too much to dwell on the past, when it was time to focus on their future.

"That's... it? Rach, I- I cheated on you!"

Ross raised his voice in shock, wondering why she reacted as if nothing happened. He had committed the worst atrocity known to a relationship, and Rachel didn't seem phased at all. In fact, she smiled again, this time with the warm sentiment that usually made all of his troubles go away; this time, it failed. She continued to stroke her boyfriend's cheek, however, and spoke as lightly as possible, shaking her head.

"I don't care."

"...What?" He was dumbfounded. This was not at all what he was expecting, and yet, he stubbornly chose to pursue it instead of dropping it, like most people would have. The desire to have answers outweighed anything else.

"I don't _care_, Ross. It doesn't matter anymore." Rachel raised her voice in response, hoping to get her point across. She didn't expect him to react this way; she expected him to be happy, and relieved. However, Rachel soon realized that while she had forgiven him, he still didn't forgive himself.

"H-How can you just say that?"

Rachel sighed, and changed her demeanor entirely. She had to let loose all of her feelings that had built up since that day, **_again_**. It would be painful, that much was sure. But if she didn't do this, they would never be able to move forward.

"Ross, do you know what I felt when I first saw you that night in the hospital?"

He stared at her, speechless. Ross didn't even think about how Rachel felt, having been swamped in his own self-loathing. He had expected her to still be angry with him, or even glad that he was hurt that night. After all, Ross firmly believed he deserved it, whys shouldn't she? So, he waited for her answer, eyes fixated on hers. It seemed as though she was going to cry again, but instead, Rachel shut her eyes, and began yelling.

"I was **_scared_**, Ross! I was scared that I was going to lose the most important person in my life... forever!"

The manifesto surged through him, and his heart nearly stopped. Ross couldn't believe what he was hearing. That was what she thought? That was the first thing on her mind? Even after their breakup, he was still the most important person to her? It was unreal. It had gotten to the core of his very mind, and, seconds later, he refused to believe it. His eyes gave it away, as they darted from side to side, wishing that Rachel would open hers. Instead, she buried her head into his arms again, and sobbed for a long, despairing minute before speaking again.

"I... I couldn't - even - _begin_ to imagine my - life, without you." She spoke more into his chest than anything else. It was like screaming into a pillow; she held a shred of hope that he could hear past her short gasps of sorrow.

Luckily, he did, and without further hesitation, wrapped his arms around cold and decrepit form. Ross wanted her to stop, he really did, but did not know how anymore. He loved Rachel, and would do all he can to help, but it seemed like there was nothing he could do besides hold her. He did, however, do her favorite thing; stroke her hair. This went on for several minutes, until her whimpers turned into mere sniffling.

"That's- That's why I forgive you. That's why I don't _care_. Your life is way more important than a stupid little mistake. I- I can't lose you, Ross! I can't."

Rachel winced halfway through her statement, and it was clear that the pain she felt was almost as bad as the pain he felt for putting her in such a position. It was hard for anyone to expose themselves in a way that she did, and, while Ross felt guilty, he was also proud of Rachel for doing what most would never do; not just now, but for the preceding weeks as well.

"You're.. You're not gonna lose me, Rach."

She shook her head, wishing - hoping - that what he said was true. It became obvious, to both of them, that they couldn't go on long without the other. Ross didn't want to be away from her just as much as she didn't want him to be. They were attached, and it felt wonderful. Rachel knew this, but still decided to push the envelope. Ross had started it, and now she would finish it. Despite her sniffling, Rachel kept her stance.

"I- It's my fault."

Ross needed to hear that again; as he ran it through his mind, it was as clear as a whistle.

"What? No! Don't say that!" Ross yelled at her, hoping to break her down and stop all of this right now. His plan of proposal was halted, and it was all to stop Rachel from crying again and placing the blame on her, even when she had done nothing wrong. Why would she blame herself? This was all because of what he did; he chose to bring a picnic basket to her work. He chose to drink that night and chose have sex with Chloe. He chose to leave at that exact time during the night of the accident instead of fighting for just a little bit longer. There was no reason for any of this; why would she create one?

"No! I-I'm the one that started that-that **_break_**. I-I-I told you to leave!" Within seconds, Rachel began crying again. Instead of pulling her in, Ross gripped her shoulders and looked at her squarely, in an attempt to solve this with reason; something that was near impossible at this point.

"No. Stop it, Rachel. It doesn't matter anymore, remember? _Remember_?" Ross managed to shed a tear at her expense. He wanted to do something - **_anything_ **- just to get Rachel to stop crying. He wanted to kiss her, and hold her tightly; but for some reason, he couldn't.

"I... I hate myself for it, Ross."

Ross shattered. The worst possible thing that could come out of Rachel's mouth, and heart, floated to the surface. He so desperately wanted to grab her, and pull her into his body. He didn't know who felt worse; him for hearing her say that she hated herself, or for her to actually say it, and mean it. Ross was ready to give up, again, and it was evident in the cracking of his voice.

"Don't. Please, Rachel, don't."

"I just wanna... forget..." Rachel's face was the soil, bedded with rivers of tears. She hated the fact that she put herself in this position, and that she was making Ross feel the exact same way. She wanted to stop, but the built up emotions that she hid behind her aura of strength was pouring out of her heart, towards the man she wanted to spend forever with. Perhaps, in the dark depths of her mind, she believed it was her turn to fall, and be picked up by someone else for a change.

"So let's do that. Let's just forget all of this, for now."

Ross regained his composure, if only to say that; he wanted to take her on a journey, like she had done so many times for him. He wanted to take her everywhere, if only in their own imaginations, and escape the turmoil that followed them. Only in their own hearts were they able to do this, and do it well.

"Rach?"

Ross took her hands in his, and leaned into her. He showered her in kisses, from her forehead to her chin. Her tears still stained her skin, but Ross dried them with his love. He never wanted to let go. So, for what seemed like hours, they laid there together, in silence, as Rachel's crying began to subside. Finally, as he felt her breathing return to normal, Ross whispered into her ear, a year of mirth and piety behind him.

"I will never hurt you again."

After hearing this declaration, Rachel pulled her head back, and looked into Ross's waiting eyes. He looked so lost; so broken. It was as if Rachel was looking into a mirror; one that did everything it could to help her, all at its expense. She knew that she had to fix this, and fix it now. Without saying anything, she smiled, and stretched the muscles of her face that had been worn to almost nothing.

In an instant, Ross had found salvation. As he watched her smile draw across her angelic face, her eyes glistened in the moonlight. Ross had never seen anything so beautiful. Immediately, he smiled back, and felt at home again. He could drown in the happiness that flooded him. It was surreal, and he was almost sure that it was a dream; if it was, he would never, ever, want to wake up. He could live off of her smile alone.

As another minute passed them by, he pushed Rachel's hair away from her face before it could fog her beauty. Wanting to finish what he had started, Ross swallowed his fear and spoke, his heart clear and true.

"Do you remember how we talked about going away together?"

Rachel's eyes widened at the question. It was their nine-month anniversary, and Ross had brought up going on a trip together, just the two of them; however, before Rachel could answer faithfully, he was called to the museum on an emergency. When he came back only twenty minutes later, they had completely forgotten about it, even though both were willing to speak of it again.

"We, uh, never settled on a location."

Rachel puckered her lips in indecision, unable to think clearly after such an emotional outburst. Instead, she simply waited for Ross to speak, and signified this by simply shrugging.

"I was thinking... Italy. Or uh, France." He had always known that Rachel had a soft spot for both countries; however, he didn't know if she had a preference or even favored one over the other. Either way, he was more than willing to take her wherever she wanted to go, and even around the world.

"France?" Her hopeful smile gave away that France was her number one choice, and apparently with good reason.

"Yeah. We could go to Brittany, or uh, Strasbourg." There was no reason Ross named Brittany, but Strasbourg happened to be his favorite. It was situated across the Rhine River, and was a melding of both French and German culture; a haven of food.

"What about Paris?" Rachel's soft and saccharine voice made her sound like an innocent child; now, especially, having just recovered from such a tense moment.

"Well, I thought Paris was a given."

He knew that Rachel had fantasized about going to Paris; she often talked about going there someday with Monica when they would hear it mentioned on the Discovery Channel while Ross was watching. When they first started dating, Ross knew that if he took her there, they would go to Paris, first thing. It would be foolish to take her to France and not at least _check out_ the City of Lights.

"I love you." Rachel smiled at his sentiment and spoke the three words Ross had missed for an eternity. It was absolutely breathtaking to hear 'I love you' from the girl of his dreams. It was better than hearing it from Carol, that much was for sure.

"I love you too."

As he said that, without warning, Ross planted his lips on hers. It had been a full twenty minutes since he had kissed an angel; it was worse than going three days without water. Now, however, he was replenished with the love he needed to thrive. It was not a long kiss, but it was much more special than most others they shared, and that meant something. When they pulled apart, Rachel, once again, had a loving grin on her face, and they were happy.

The kiss quickly reminded Ross of a very, very significant moment in his life; he wanted Rachel to know just _how_ significant.

"Rach."

"Hmm?" Her voice was weary; she was ready to fall asleep, although her widened eyes told a different story.

"Do you remember our uh, first kiss?" He rolled his head to one side, biting his lip, praying to God that she remembered. While it was hard to read her expression after he said that, Ross noticed how her brow furrowed like she was trying to remember something else.

"At the laundromat?"

"N- Huh. I totally forgot that one. What was that about, anyway?" Ross had forgotten how she'd kissed him after chasing away the mean woman at the laundromat. However, he did hit his head right after, so it was more or less justified. The first time he had tasted her gorgeous, ruby red lipstick, and he couldn't remember. Ross would have kicked himself, if his legs worked properly.

"It was a 'thank you' more than anything, I suppose. Y'know, like 'thanks for washing my car'." Immediately, she kissed him again, this time only lasting a brief second; Ross managed to savor it as if it had lasted ten minutes.

"Oh. Well, I, uh, meant the one at Central Perk."

"As if I'd ever forget." Rachel chuckled; it was the greatest she ever had, and little did Ross know that was one of the greatest moments of her life as well.

Her laugh managed to motivate Ross for what he was about to say; the only problem was, he didn't **_know_ **what he was going to say. He wanted to just release everything, in one strong wave, much like Rachel had done only minutes earlier, but this time, there would be no despair. No tears of sorrow. Only love. Ross was ready to commit to Rachel forever, and he wanted more than anything to make it perfect. Rachel deserved perfection.

With that, Ross swallowed whatever fear, dignity, and logic he had left, hopefully for the last time. He wanted to yell his love for her to the heavens, from his very soul. So, he took her delicate hands in his once more, and spoke, his heart purer than it had ever been in his entire life.

"I... I could live forever, Rachel. I could sail around the world. I could climb Mount Everest, and taste every wine known to man. I could... go to the moon, and cure cancer."

He avoided her dumbfounded gaze; he couldn't afford to be distracted.

"But nothing, **_nothing_**, will ever compare to when I kissed you that night." Ross shook her limp hands as he enunciated the word 'nothing'.

"It was... It was at that moment that I knew that I had found my everything. When I knew that I would love you forever."

Ross opened his eyes, and it was as if he had just been born. The ray of light that caught his approach was none other than Rachel herself. He didn't even realize what he had truly said; it eluded him in such a way that he had been lost in his own glorified and holy world: A shrine to Rachel.

She was none other than the happiest woman in the world. To hear something so beautiful and from so deep inside the heart made her clamp her mouth to keep the tears from gushing out. Instead, a scream of rapture made it's way past the waterfall that fell over her hand, and Rachel knew that everything she could have ever wanted was right in front of her.

"Ross...!" Her arms latched around his neck, and instantly, she fell into him again, sobbing harder than ever before. It was the greatest thing she had ever heard. How could she not cry her eyes out? No one else in the entire universe meant more to her than Ross. She was already in paradise. She had found, in only twenty-seven years, what most people spend lifetimes searching for.

"I... I love you." He petted the back of her head, surprised at the impact his penchant had on her. Ross didn't question anything more; he simply held the woman of his dreams in his arms, as she cried tears of the greatest joy.

"I would... I'd give you the world, if I could."

His whispers shook her to the very center of her body. Rachel wished that she could just be with Ross, forever and ever. She wanted him to propose, right then and there. Why didn't he? It was the perfect timing, and she would have said yes in the blink of an eye. However, he didn't, as to let her subside.

The words rang in her head, over and over again.

Each time felt like the first, and she managed to feel the same way without rivers of tears adding to the puddle on the sheets.

"T-That's too much. Couldn't I j-just have you, instead?" Rachel's sniffling made her voice crack, and it seemed as though she was going to weep more than when she did earlier. Now, _she_ was the one questioning whether it was all real or not.

"Well, you kind of already do."

Rachel pulled her head away just long enough for her to utter her thoughts.

"Then I don't want anything else."

Again, she buried herself into his chest, her heartbeat syncing with his. The moon was now out of sight, and now only the night sky wandered above, dotted with dozens of stars that held the power to create life. It was unbelievable, really, to actually see how small they were compared to the rest of the universe.

Their love, however, was infinite.

When Ross began to doze off, he was quickly awakened by the tracing of circles on his wrist by his lover. He might have fallen asleep - Ross wasn't sure. After all, it was dark, and Rachel wasn't making a peep; she had stopped crying for a while now.

"Rach." It was his morning voice; except it wasn't morning. Rachel looked up toward him, noticing his eyes, which were still closed. After she gently tapped his eyelid, they fluttered open, and he saw her bright face again.

He didn't know why he called her name; he could have easily fallen back to sleep, and just continued on wooing her that morning. He could have proposed in a much more gallant way that he was going to. Yet, something, somewhere, told Ross that he had to finish this now, or he would regret it. It didn't hit him that this entity was himself, hell-bent on finishing this, once and for all.

For Rachel. He wanted her now, as his fianceé. If he waited any longer, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He had to do this, and he had to do it before the sun rose.

So, he took the final step.

"I, uh, I said that something was supposed to happen on our anniversary." It was time to talk about this. There was obviously never going to be a better opportunity to speak of his failed marriage proposal than on his next.

"Oh, yeah... What was it?"

"Well, erm, I... I was going... I was going to _propose_ to you, that night." Ross shut his eyes after revealing his secret, hoping that her answer would not be as bad as the millions that had forced themselves into his head. If she didn't suspect something before, she did now.

"_What_? You were?" Rachel was again, flabbergasted. She had never expected this to happen. When he had mentioned this before, she had expected him to be talking about just having that romantic dinner or something along those lines. But, a proposal? It had never crossed her tracks.

"Yeah- but then we had that stupid fight, and I just... Well, you know the rest." Ross tried his best not to remember that day, but unfortunately, his head made a great movie theater with only one seat.

"Oh m- Oh my god, Ross..."

Rachel couldn't believe her ears. If none of that had ever happened, she would Ross's fianceé at this very minute, and they would be in Monica's apartment instead of the hospital. They would be cuddling, in Rachel's bed, ring emblazoned on her finger. The very thought made her swim in a bittersweet lake of regret.

"I-I can't believe this."

"I love you, Rachel." Ross smiled at his beloved, and, while she stared out of the bedside window in awe, she managed to pull out her own shocked smile. She placed herself in a wedding gown, imagining what it would be like to be Dr. and Mrs. Ross Geller.

Little did she know, Rachel would only imagine for a little while longer.

"That's why, I'm asking you now."

The utterance had come out a lot smoother than Ross expected; they weren't flashy, or cheesy-sounding either. It sounded like a very subtle challenge, and even Rachel picked up on this. She didn't seem to figure anything out, however, as her tone gave her away.

"W-What?"

Ross sighed; it was time to end this, and end it in a way that would burn in his mind forever, as he proposed to the girl of his dreams. So, as he leered into her soul, Ross spoke from his heart again, nearly draining it.

"You are the world to me. You loved me in a way that no one else did, not even Carol. You stood by me for two-and-a-half years, as my friend, **_and_ **my girlfriend."

"Ross-" She was cut off.

"You saved my life."

He didn't want to tell her, but it slipped out. Some things Ross wanted to keep inside, even to Rachel. How she saved his life was one of them. Whether it was because of his paranoia or the fact that she wouldn't understand without him explaining it, thus ruining the moment, was unknown. However, since he decided to reveal any withheld secrets that had been spoken of, Ross took it all the way.

Rachel was waiting for an explanation, anyway.

"I almost gave up. In the hospital, that night, I was ready to die. I _wanted_ to die."

"W-Why would you say that?" So many things had been said to her that night; all of them good. Until now, that is. Ross struck a nerve so deep inside of her that she wanted to punch him as hard as she could.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Rachel blinked rapidly, before furiously shaking her head 'no'. It annoyed Ross that she couldn't see it; that she couldn't see the very love he had placed in front of her only a little while ago. But instead of raising his voice like he would've done, he instead explained to her in the simplest way possible.

"I.. I'd lost you."

Her expression of utter confusion slowly transformed into that of sadness. Her ears had deceived her once again. What was happening here? One minute, she's the happiest woman in the world, with the greatest boyfriend in the world, and all of a sudden he's telling her how he wanted to die because she'd dumped him. It was terrible, until Ross spoke again.

"Our break-up played in my head, over and over. Each time, it hurt more. I was just waiting for someone to end it for me. I wanted the pain to stop, Rachel." It was all true. In the sea of dreams and visions that had occurred that night, Ross was simply waiting for the plug to be pulled. After all, he'd lost Rachel; therefore, he'd lost everything.

"But then, I started thinking about you."

"Me?" Again, the solemn voice of a child yearning for her mother's embrace came from her lips. She knew exactly how to break Ross, and was pulling out all the stops to do it.

"Yeah. W-What it'd be like to never see you again." The testimony came and went like a brisk wind. A calm soon followed, and both of them felt the impact of the statement . To think, never being able to see Rachel again broke Ross's heart, yet here she was, right in front of his eyes. After a tense moment, Ross broke the silence.

"It was horrifying."

Rachel wanted to say something, she desperately wanted to. However, there were no way to describe these feelings. They were a whole new ballgame than what she was used to; nothing was ever concrete anymore, until Ross said it, and it matched the description perfectly.

"I was just on the brink, and, you... you saved me. I never, ever, want to know what life is without you, Rach. I didn't even care if you hated me for what I did; I would rather live in a world where you despise me than live in one without you at all." It was like he was a completely different person, as he spoke. He wasn't awkward. He didn't mess up. He didn't change his mind at the last second. He wasn't _**Ross** _anymore. He was a man who had found himself.

"Ross..." Rachel was speechless after hearing that. It was a true testament to how much he loved her, and she couldn't even say 'thank you'. Why couldn't she show herself to him the way he did to her? Why couldn't she open her heart and tell him that he is the reason she still wakes up?

"You're... everything." Again, he showered her with the greatest of gifts. This time, however, Rachel found that it was hard to resist. How can two simple words mean so much? How can a kiss, or a hug, or a night of sex change so much? These questions that cannot be answered by normal people; and yet, Ross seemed to have them all right in the palm of his hand. Once she saw this, Rachel cried harder than ever before.

"I love you so much, R-Ross."

For the last time, they sunk into each other's arms. Ross didn't speak, anymore. He had to save his strength. He just held her, like he had done so many times. However, this time would be the last time it was so hard, so complex to let go. After this, he knew that the arms of his angel would always be open. After this, he could finally rest, having secured everything he needed for a long and happy life.

Rachel felt his Adam's apple caress her cheek.

She felt his trembling voice speak that which had created and destroyed; the Alpha, and the Omega. An arrow of light pierced the very fabric of her heart, and she knew the words to be true, and the love behind them to be as real as the stars in the sky.

"Will... Will you marry me?"

There was silence; Rachel pulled away from him, for the very last time. In his eyes sat the fire that had been sucked away that night. This time, Ross would fight even harder than ever before. This time, she would not make him leave. This will be a fight that she will lose, gracefully.

As true love is placing another's happiness above your own, no matter how hard the choices; Ross had been doing this for fourteen years.

So, without another word nor whisper, Rachel smiled through the fog of tears one last time, and Ross had his answer.


	38. Chapter 38: Hope

**AN: It's been a good ride.  
><strong>

**I can honestly say I loved writing this story for you all.  
>In fact, I can say that the greatest thing to ever happen to me was because of this story.<strong>

**Anyway, enjoy, and thanks.**

* * *

><p>As each wave crashed among the rocks below, the earth shook.<p>

As in passing, the thumping heart made its call.

The sun had set behind the clouds above them, and the ocean made its peace. The purple and orange tint of the skies above set the mood for their two weeks of pure love; in the end, they would embark upon the most epic journey. It would be the beginning of the rest of their lives.

The beginning of forever.

So, when the angelic and flaxen auburn hair fluttered in the breeze, each second passed as an hour of complete and total bliss; again and again, it reminded her of the euphoria of the life she was about to begin.

They would kiss; every day, every hour, and every minute.

In but an hour, they would make love for the first time in matrimony, and it would be the greatest moment of their lives. A true seal to the bond that they now shared as husband and wife, as the ultimate creation of the soil and the heavens. The blue waters beyond would splash and rip the earth asunder, and yet, they would never come close to the thunder in their hearts as they became one.

The very thought made Rachel grateful to be alive.

And, as her chin sat in her hand, she felt the coolness of her wedding ring against her tender skin. It felt right, in every way, to be this committed to someone she loved more than anything in this world. Every morning, she woke up, and knew that she had someone who loved her, and would protect her at any cost. Rachel felt like she mattered, for once.

It was a wonderful feeling.

Even though the sun could no longer peer through the clouds, Rachel could feel the warmth that came from it.

When Ross had kissed her that day, everything that she had known up to that point had been rendered moot. **_This_ **was the greatest day of her life, and she knew that nothing else could ever surpass it, not until she had given birth to their first child. However, she would always recall to the moment where Ross had confessed his love for her in the most immaculate way possible; the words that rang in her head as he proposed to her came back as a crystal clear edict when their lips met under the arch.

Rachel understood it, too; when Ross had kissed her that night, she knew that she had fallen for him - hard.

Even when he had made the list about her, she still loved him. In retrospect, Rachel did overreact about the entire thing; Ross was simply trying to do the right thing, but he ended up losing both her _and_ Julie.

Upon remembering, Rachel closed her eyes. She didn't want to summon the past; not the bad parts, anyway. She wanted to cherish the moments they shared together. She wanted to look towards the future, cupped in her tiny, frail hands, which in turn were held by Ross's.

So, as her eyes opened, Rachel was greeted by the ocean once more. She could smell the aroma of the salty sea, and the life it held within its murky depths. The waters laid still, as if they were waiting to be parted. The sun now disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving only the rays of light that peeked over the vista. It seemed so peaceful; if Rachel could paint, she would paint the very scene before her.

She settled for a picture, instead.

The sound of running water made its way out of the bathroom as Rachel took a disposable camera from her bag. Ross was preparing the most extravagant evening for her; he wanted to be squeaky clean when they consummated their relationship.

It was not until she came back out of the honeymoon suite did Rachel notice the chilling draft of the New Year. It was cold, but not cold enough for her to retreat. For some reason, she kept out on the balcony, ready to watch the night fall upon the first day of their eternal pilgrimage.

Rachel wanted to feel everything. She wanted to relive all of the emotions that had surfaced since she met Ross, and the heat that came from them, which warmed her faster than Everclear. She wanted to go back to that night, and make him stay. She wanted to tell him over and over that _he_ was the only man she ever loved, and that whatever happens between them, they could work it out.

However, another thought reached out to her.

If it had been different, would they be where they were now? Would they be newlyweds, or would they still be recovering from their broken relationship? Would Monica and Chandler be together, at all? The questions seemed to fly by her, and the ones she _could_ catch proved to be difficult to answer.

Rachel didn't even want to think about it. Instead, she sighed, and looked out towards the bay once more. Gulls fluttered over her, mewing as if they'd found an entire nest of eggs to prey on. Rachel wished that she could have wings, like Ross did, in her dreams. She would fly everywhere, and do everything, and bring Ross to the very place where he brought her every day since that day - Paradise. It was a magical thought in its own right, and she was sure that Ross would agree.

Locked in her deep thought, Rachel did not hear the bathroom door open.

Instead, what she heard was the same sound she had heard earlier that day, as the two of them walked from the cliff to the chapel to the hotel: Wedding bells. Granted, they only existed in the fabrication of her own mind, but this was the only time she would hear it in her life; and they were crystal clear.

As they dinged in her head, flooding her mind with fresh memories, Rachel didn't feel the familiar hands that she had caressed every night wrap around her lithe waist. While she subtly responded to Ross's warmth with nothing but raw instinct, she could not address him properly, at the moment. Her eyes kept to the ocean, and her hands kept to the deck. Still, Ross chose to help enlighten whatever it was that was bothering her, as he ran his hands up and down her arms, shielding them from the nippy zephyr.

In the nine months following the proposal, Ross had become a second skin to Rachel. When they weren't at work, they were together, in each other's arms. They were like a couple of teenagers, madly in love. It was like looking into the past and seeing the future. They never let go.

As Rachel felt her lover's chin rest on her shoulder, she leaned back into his waiting chest. She loved how he could always, without fail, turn her mind away from whatever she was thinking about, and bring it to the moment. When Ross kissed her cheek, she smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.

When Ross peered over her and saw the ocean, he was brought back to that day; the day where his life changed forever. The ceremony, the surprises after it, came screaming back to him, and soon, he became lost in the day.

He remembered sitting in his hotel room, Joey and Chandler at his side.

Crying. That was all he did that morning. Ross wept for over an hour that morning. Not because he was scared, or was ready to walk out on everyone, but because he was happy. His fantasy was coming true, unraveling before his very eyes. Ross knew that it wasn't an illusion, anymore; it was all real.

He was going to marry Rachel Green, the woman of his dreams. The woman that made him complete; the woman he had been in love with since he was fourteen.

Ross couldn't even begin to fathom it. In only a few hours, he would slip a white-gold engraved wedding ring onto her satin finger, and take her hand in marriage. As the idea popped into his head, a deluge of memories did, as well. The moment they had gotten together seemed as if it never really happened; Ross felt as though he had transformed from fourteen to twenty-nine, and suddenly, he was marrying Rachel. It was strange, and he couldn't believe it, no matter how true it was.

As Ross persisted his bawling, Chandler quietly left, after giving his best friend a reassuring pat on the back. He needed to find Monica and help put the final touches of the ceremony together, or else he wouldn't get his reward from her later that night.

Their relationship had evolved and matured faster than anybody had expected; in the nine months Chandler and Monica had been together, they almost never fought. When they did, it was nothing more than petty squabble which usually ended up in a good laugh between the two. The bond they had sought was already there; they just couldn't see it, yet.

They made an excellent progeny; this made Ross cry even harder.

At the same time, Joey just sat next to him, awkwardly trying to console him, even though nothing was actually wrong. He did little more than just pat his knees in anticipation that Ross would let him leave; this proved to be futile, so Joey simply waited for the storm of tears to pass.

After an hour, when the wailing stopped, they exchanged shirts.

The vows that they had carefully and thoughtfully written themselves, only a month earlier, did no justice to the meaning behind them. Words on parchment could never fully express the love between any two people, let alone Ross and Rachel. They were eagles, flying with the wings of a dove.

Still, they read them proudly, and with vigor. They knew the impact such words could have on each other and the ones they loved. Ross feared that he would cry again, but apparently, he was completely and utterly drained. As he watched Rachel tell him how much she loved him, in so many words, his heart nearly melted. The most beautiful sound wisped out of Rachel lips every time she spoke; the voice of angel was all that Ross heard.

And, when they kissed, their hearts stopped. Every second of their lives had been brought into the forefront of their minds, and they saw the light that pierced the heavens in each other's soul. Their first kiss as husband and wife emulated their kiss as but two friends who had feelings for one another. However, it was intensified. It was stronger. They had seen through the very fabric of reality, and forever passed in a second as their lips locked together in a subtle passion.

They had taken the first steps on their journey, as they headed through this world and the next. The canals of Venice, to the beaches of Malibu. They found peace in their hearts, and with every year that passed, Ross and Rachel knew that happiness laid around every corner, waiting to catch them and bring them joy. It was beautiful; in fact, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. They didn't think, as usual; instead, they simply absorbed the rush that came from the eruption of serenity that enveloped them.

Without a doubt, it was the greatest kiss either of them ever had. A true semblance of their love contained within just a touch of their lips. They didn't know that it would feel this amazing, but they were glad it did. Every single day, they would wake up, and remember this day; the day that made them complete, in every single way possible.

It was perfect.

The sounds of clapping and cheer strolled through their minds, as they barely heard it over the sound of their own hearts beating. They thumped with enough power to rip out of their chests. It felt so strong, but so tender at the same time.

They didn't want it to end.

However, it had to. Their eyes opened up with a flair of longing, and reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. Still, the sounds of the roaring applause were drowned out as their gaze met for the first time in the throes of wedlock. Their eyes looked different, somehow, as if someone had polished them like the gems they were. They glittered under the high sun, and seemed to brighten, if even a little bit.

With their hands held between them, Rachel smiled at Ross again, knowing that she had found her soulmate; the one person that she would love, until the end of time.

That afternoon, they danced. It was no grand affair; they were alone, and had the soft jazz tunes in the background as their solace. Ross's hands clutched Rachel's sides, while her arms rested upon his shoulders. It felt as warm as it ever did, and, even though their eyes looked toward the ground, they knew that they could see right into each other.

They didn't dance, so much as take an occasional step; most of the time, they didn't move at all. The two of them just stood there, wantonly. Rachel could feel Ross's face buried into her shoulder; she could also feel the tears he cried soak through her gown. She knew that he was just as happy, if not more, than her. Indeed, it was the happiest day of her life; but moreso in Ross's case.

As they pulled apart from each other, they saw not only themselves, but their friends, cheering them on.

With that, Ross took Rachel away, to their hotel.

So, he watched the light fall, next to his beloved. Her arm was still thrown around his neck, and his hands still sat on her shapely hips. They sat there, thinking of their friends, and the sacrifices they made for their happiness, and vice versa. It took a lot of courage for them to move past this, and they were more than grateful for having each other to help along the way.

However, Ross still had a couple of secrets; one, in particular, still blew his mind.

Earlier, when he walked into Joey's room to get his shirt back, he found it on the floor; Joey, was on the bed, with the bridesmaid. Rachel only had _two_ bridesmaids, and the one he was with certainly wasn't Monica.

The image of Joey's naked back almost blinded Ross, but, he managed to get out of there just long enough to hear Phoebe scream bloody murder.

He winced a bit, which Rachel felt; immediately, Ross felt her hand grip his shoulder, which calmed his nerves. The day was starting to affect them in a negative way, and they were both fatigued, but they were still happy.

As the sky turned black, Ross had let go of his lover, and retreated to the bed. His thoughts still sat on the day, and his friends, of whom he was very proud of. He wanted to make the night special, as special as he possibly could, but that seemed improbable now. All he wanted was to cuddle with Rachel, to hold her, and make her his.

So, she complied. Rachel crawled into their marital bed, and felt their skin warm against each other's. Their thoughts drifted from themselves, to their friends, and to the experiences they had gone through, just to find that the only thing they ever needed was each other. The future was brighter than it ever was, before. The next wedding they would attend would be Chandler and Monica's, and so forth, even Joey and Phoebe's.

They were one, big, happy family.

And now, 1998 would be their year. The first day of January, where they became one, would be the first day in the beginning of their lives.

When Rachel's eyes met his, she found him, just as she did that morning, where she thought he had come back to her. He looked so boyish, so innocent, like he did before he had fallen in love with her. The minute they had spent kissing, on that night, still echoed through the depths of her mind. Ross was like her own little blanket; she could snuggle up and be safe forever.

Ross would always protect her; he would gladly die for her, and all of their friends, as well. He didn't know why he was so confident now, but he liked it. He liked knowing that if the situation arose, he would become a human shield, and become a hero. Even if the glory had gone to his head, the idea seemed fantastic. Besides, better him than Joey, or Chandler. Their lives mattered more to him than his own.

Lost in their reveries, their stared at each other again, and found salvation. Their love still sat like fairy on a pendulum, casually swinging from left to right, as their hearts mimicked the soft and elegant movement in it's own beats.

Soon, their minds filled with the thoughts of their friends; they had sought so much, and had been to Hell and back, looking, waiting, _wanting_ the nightmare to end. The dream that followed came as a chapter in which they could learn from the past the greatest lesson of all.

In the end, through the darkness, the six of them found each other.

Through each other, they found hope.


End file.
